The Reckoning
by Mike Taurguss
Summary: GTAS10 Gabrielle and David plan to celebrate their 25th aniversary, old enemies return, friends are reunited, conflicts arise, The Greek Gods have fallen, and a whole new journey for David and Gabrielle begins!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Torches flickered feebly in the darkness, surrounding the massive stone altar. Shadowy figures stood motionless along the damp stone walls, waiting. At the far end of the chamber, seated on a massive carved throne, sat the High Priest, his skin pale, nearly white, his face unreadable, pale white eyes gazing out across the chamber at nothing and everything.

Beside the throne stood a second figure, also robed in black, its body hidden beneath the thick, overlapping folds. Only the lower half of a blackened and malformed face could be seen.

The seated figure stirred, his eyes focusing on the far entrance of the temple.

"Bring in the next one," he said. When he spoke, his voice was soft, distant, almost reptilian. A faint smile barely touched the colorless lips.

Two more robed figures came in, escorting a young woman, dressed in white. Her eyes were deep blue and glazed. She stared up at the pale figure on the throne in some form of rapture.

The seated Priest looked at the figure next to him.

"I trust this shall meet with your approval?" he asked.

"Yes," The other figure said in a rough, husky, distinctly feminine voice. That one stepped down from the dias, extending its blackened, ruined fingers to either side of the woman's delicate face.

"My father shall reward you for your sacrifice," she said hypnotically. She bent slowly and pressed her ruined lips against the mouth of the woman in a long, grotesque kiss. The cowl fell back, revealing the tortured peeled and burnt scalp with tufts of singed hair.

A soft moan emanated from the young woman as she gave herself over to that kiss, then her body stiffened in surprise and the soft moan became a rising, muffled cry of pain and terror.

The blackened fingers held fast the face of the young woman as she suddenly struggled against the dark figure holding her.

Then the flesh on the young woman began to shrink, as if years were passing by in a matter of moments, the eyes, wide with terror, glazed over again and began to go dim. The struggling hands weakened and fell limp. At the same time, the dark figure's flesh began to pale and grow pink again. Long strands of luxurious golden hair began flowing from the scarred head. The dark robe fell to the ground, revealing the body of the thing.

Like a macabre butterfly, shedding the hard shell of its cocoon, The blackened figure slowly transformed into something far more human. Her flesh was soft, pink, and shapely in its simple nakedness. The burnt claw like fingers receded beneath layers of soft flesh and perfectly manicured nails. The deep, ember pits that were its eyes dimmed and then filled, turning a deep mesmerizing green. Those green eyes stared ahead at the room, filling with malevolent satisfaction, the lips still locked on the failing body of its victim.

At last, the crumpled form of the sacrifice fell to the stone floor with the unnatural clatter of old bones wrapped in a thin layer of shrunken flesh.

The figure held up its healed hands and stared at them in wonder, a small smile barely touching the edges of her healed lips. She turned those hands over, and explored her new flesh, as if understanding, for the first time, what it truly meant to feel. The hands reached up to caress the smooth skin of her face. The long tresses, tickled the skin of her back, between her shoulder blades. Inquisitive green eyes closed in a mixture of rapture and childish fascination.

A seductive sigh escaped her lips. "I've missed this."

The pale priest rose, smiling as he surveyed her shapely body. He quickly subverted his lustful desires and draped her discarded robe over her soft shoulders.

She stiffened at his intrusive touch and turned her large green eyes up to his pale face. Her smile was cold and calculating and those soft green eyes bored into his gaze like icy daggers.

"My lady," he hissed as he bowed his head. His hand stayed poised over his heart, and he backed several respectful steps away from her. "Too long have we endured without your guidance. Now, we rejoice that you have returned to us in full."

"I'm sure," she smiled. She strode towards the throne and folded herself into it with feline grace, her eyes scanning the surrounding priests with glacial detachment. "My father is most displeased with your lack of progress over the years." Her fingers stroked the cold unyielding stone as if it were crushed velvet. Then she looked sharply at the High Priest. A single dagger detached itself from the wall and shot across the chamber, plunging into the priests heart. Instead of pain or surprise, the priest merely smiled and crumpled to the floor, his blood pooling beneath his body.

Her eyes scanned the remaining figures standing motionless about the altar. She leaned her head back against the stone and sighed, smiling coldly. "All of that is going to change."

She let a sigh escape her lips as she reveled, once more, in the feeling of her new flesh, then she rose, heedless of the way her robe opened when she moved.

Stepping to the altar, she placed her hands upon it and looked about the room.

A dozen robed figures stepped from the shadows, all of them, like their predecessor, were pale skinned and white eyed.

"The Greek Gods are no more," she said with a smile. "Those that remain are weak, waiting to be toppled. The Egyptian Gods have fallen into chaos, and the rest will fall in turn. It is our time. Gather your brothers together. It's time to go forth and claim the lands we have been promised."

A dozen cowled heads nodded in acquiescence and departed.

Once the temple was empty, she let the old robe fall back to the floor and stretched her arms out in abandon, feeling the cool air move over her skin. Standing before the large polished shape of a silver shield, she stared at her reflection in wonder and smiled again, then she raised her arms and closed her eyes. A soft bluish light rose from the ground, writhing about her like ethereal serpents. When they finally faded, she looked again at the garments she now wore. A simple green top and soft tan skirt. Her feet were encased in sturdy brown boots, and a long quarterstaff rested in her right hand.

"There," she nodded in cool satisfaction. She turned and strode purposefully towards the entrance. "Time to go see mommy."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Come on, sis!" Alexander said, almost pleading. "It's one place that they've never been to, and I think it would be great for them?"

He was a young man, twenty-three years of age, with thick, curly blondish hair and dark, thoughtful brown eyes. He was lithe and strong, with an athletic build. He shifted the large pack that hung over his shoulder and smiled expectantly.

"Come on, Xe?" he continued. "You've said you wanted to see Carthedge too, so why not? It'll be like the family vacations that we used to take when we were kids!"

Xena looked down at her younger brother skeptically. "I mentioned Carthedge two years ago," she said, smiling. Then her blue eyes darkened slightly with concern. "Besides, that's on the other side of the Med? There's no way mom would go for a boat trip that far? You and I? No problem!"

Alexander studied Xena's face for a long moment and saw the twinge of internal torment.

"She seemed to think it was a good idea when I brought it up a couple of months ago?" he offered.

Xena sighed and looked up at the sky. "Look," she began. "I traveled with mom, long before she was my mom. I've seen the way she handles sea voyages! It's never been pretty. As old as she is now, it could be fatal!"

Alexander smiled. "Isn't that just a bit melodramatic?"

Like his parents, Alexander knew about the unique circumstances surrounding his elder sister, and her previous life spent with their mother.

Xena shrugged. "I just don't think mom would be up to it?"

Alexander sighed.

The two of them continued down the rough path at a casual pace. Xena stood a bit taller than her brother, dressed in simple dark brown leather armor. Her hair was long and dark, almost black, and her pale blue eyes seemed to absorb her surroundings in spite of Alexander's continuous attempts to convince her.

On her right hip, hung her favorite weapon, the chakram that she had received from her mother, Gabrielle. She smiled as she considered that for a moment. The weapon had belonged to her in a past life. It had then been passed on to Gabrielle, and back to her when she was born back into the world as her best friends' child. To any other person, the sequence of events would have appeared strange, even maddening. But Xena had managed to retain not only a vast majority of her previous life experiences and memories, but also the life lessons that she had received from her current parents. As much as Gabrielle had been her best friend in the past, Xena was completely comfortable with the idea of calling her "mom".

Her last time around, Xena had not had the benefit of a father figure, her father having been killed when she was still very young. She smiled as she reminisced. This time, she had not only been blessed with a father figure, but this time, she had been able to grow up with him in her life. She smiled as some of the memories flashed before her eyes again. As much as she loved her mother, she truly cherished her father in a way that only she could understand. She had grown up as a "daddy's girl" and she didn't mind that at all.

Her introspection was interrupted by Alexander as they neared one of their usual camp sites.

The sun was nearly set behind the western hills, and they could see the glow of a campfire already burning in the little clearing.

"And what do we have here?" Alexander asked, his curiosity beginning to take hold of him.

From the small clearing they could hear several quiet voices and an underlying series of soft moans.

"Sounds like someone's in trouble," Xena replied. "Come on."

The two of them moved quickly through the foliage towards the site. When they emerged, they discovered a small fire, already crackling in the center of the clearing. Surrounding it was a group of several individuals, all of them lying on blankets. Two other figures moved about tending to numerous injuries.

"Robbers," Xena growled knowingly. "They've been busy in this area lately. Looks like they found some more victims."

A woman stood at the sound of her voice, wheeling to face them. Her eyes were wide and blue, filled with surprise. Another figure, that of a middle aged man in a long, dark robe, also rose, standing just behind the woman.

The woman was dressed in simple traveling boots breaches and tunic. On top of the tunic was a sturdy hide vest. Leather bracers covered her narrow forearms and she held two long pieces of wood in her hands. These were raised in a defensive posture.

"Who are you?" she demanded in a clear voice. She was older than them, about forty, with dark hair, only just beginning to lighten with the silver touch of years. Her face was soft, almost delicate in spite of the stern expression.

Xena froze in shock when she saw the other woman, as if she dare not believe what she was seeing.

"Eve?" she asked before she could stop herself.

The other woman's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How do you know my name?"

Xena opened her mouth to answer, but Alexander said quickly. "Long story. You look like you folks could use some help?"

The robed man put a hand on Eve's shoulder.

"It's all right," he said in a quiet, weary voice.

His face was pale and gaunt, almost skeletal in appearance. His eyes were deep and dark. He looked weaker than the people he was tending.

Eve tentatively lowered her weapons.

"We were hit by thieves earlier today," she said tersely. "These were the only survivors." Her eyes never left Xena, who stood, still numb with shock.

"Well," Alexander offered, stepping past his sister and giving her a surreptitious jab to snap her out of her stupor. "Let's make sure they stay survivors, okay?"

"Yeah," Xena replied, focusing on the task in hand. "Right."

They moved through the small group of people, treating their injuries. Xena noted some of the beadwork that they wore and nodded in realization.

"You're followers of Eli," she said knowingly.

"Yes," The robed man replied. "You know of the Elijans?"

Xena nodded and moved over to another man. Unlike the rest, he lay on a bier, unmoving, though his breathing was slow and regular.

Xena checked him, but found no sign of injury.

"You need not tend this man," the man said gently.

Xena noted the sickly yellow hue of his skin.

"But he's ill," she protested.

"He is dying," the man replied easily. "He has not been awake for many weeks now."

Xena looked at the gaunt man in confusion. He merely smiled.

"I shall tend him in my own way."

Frowning, Xena moved to the next figure and began mixing a poultice for a nasty gash on the woman's forehead.

They finished tending the wounded and began preparing food for the evening. The entire time, Xena couldn't keep from looking at her daughter, now a fully grown woman.

Some of the wounded regained enough strength to aid the others while they ate.

Finally, Eve could bear it no longer.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" she asked sincerely.

"Sorry," Xena replied, averting her eyes.

Alexander tore a small chunk of bread from a loaf. "As I said before," he offered. "It's a long story."

The gaunt man came and settled slowly down next to Eve, his dark eyes looking carefully from Xena to Eve and back. A small smile began to pull at his pale lips.

"I believe introductions should be made?" he offered.

He nodded his head. "I am Mystros. And this is Eve, Defender of Eli."

"Defender?" Xena's eyes snapped up again in surprise as she looked, once more upon her daughter.

"Of course," Mystros replied. His dark eyes never wavered as he studied the young woman across from him.

"I'm Alexander, and this is my sister, Xena," Alexander replied.

"Xena?" Eve looked at her with renewed curiosity.

Xena nodded.

"That was my mother's name," Eve said.

Again, Xena nodded. "I know."

Mystros watched Xena for a few moments, and his smile grew. "Amazing. Absolutely amazing."

Eve frowned. "What?"

Mystros's bony fingers stroked at his thinning whiskers. "You don't know?" he asked, gesturing to the young woman across from him. "You can't tell?"

"Know?" Eve shook her head. "Tell what?"

Mystros moved to kneel behind Eve's shoulder. He pointed to Xena. "Look into her eyes, my dear."

Eve looked across the flames at Xena. The younger woman matched her gaze evenly. Two pairs of crystal eyes bored into one another.

Eve's eyes widened slightly and her mouth dropped open in realization. It took a moment to find her voice again.

"Mom?" she asked in a voice that was barely a whisper. Her eyes bounced between Xena and Mystros, as if she were anticipating some kind of jest.

Xena merely stood, looking at her daughter. Her lip twitched nervously a bit as she stared at this older woman.

"Mom?" Eve also rose and stared at Xena.

Xena willed her muscles enough to nod her head.

Eve stepped around the flames and stood before Xena. She stared at Xena for a long time, seeking some form of confirmation to a silent question. Then she suddenly grabbed hold of Xena and held her with desperate strength. Tears poured from her eyes.

"It is you!" she managed to gasp.

Xena held her tightly, smiling as her own tears began to flow.

"Yes, honey," she whispered in her ear. "It's me."

When they finally parted, Eve looked Xena up and down in astonishment.

"I heard – " her voice caught in her throat. Then the questions poured from her. "I heard you were killed in Japa? How did this happen? What's going on? Where's Gabrielle? Is she okay? "

"It's a long story, baby," Xena said, rubbing Eve's shoulder.

"But oh so entertaining," Alexander added with a smile. He waved his arms across each other simulating a tangle of lines. "Our family tree has some rather tangled roots."

Eve practically yanked Xena down to sit with her. "You have to tell me everything!" she blurted excitedly.

Xena opened her mouth and then laughed quietly. She gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "I don't know where to begin?"

"I do!" Alexander volunteered, raising his hand.

Eve and Xena both looked at Alexander expectantly. He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat before launching into the tale of their lives, including as much of his sister's history as he had been told. After a while, Xena was able to pick up the story and finish it out, though the moon had already crested the sky and was beginning to settle back towards the ground by the time she had finished.

Eve listened with rapt attention. When Xena finally fell silent again, Eve sat motionless for a few moments, letting it all sink in.

"Uh, wow," she finally shook her head in amazement. "So, my aunt is your mother?"

She began to smile as she ran the lines of the lineage through her head.

"So, my niece is my mother, on my aunt's side, once removed – "

"Please!" Alexander brought a hand to his forehead. "Don't try to make sense of it all?" he twirled one finger along side his head. "It'll make you crazy."

Xena smiled. "He's right. The whole family line gets a little tangled with your uncle and I?"

Eve laughed. "A little?"

Alexander shrugged. He looked over at Mystros and grinned. "Times like this, I'm so thankful that I'm normal."

Xena laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. "Whoever said you were normal, brat!"

Alexander looked across at Mystros. "So?" he asked cheerily. "What about you? Your life can't be nearly as nuts as my sister's and mine?"

Mystros's laughter faded and his gaze sobered. "You'd be surprised, my friend." He gazed over at the one figure still lying on the bier. "Unfortunately, we do not have the time for it now." He looked knowingly at Eve.

"Lucius is nearing the time," he continued. "I fear we will have to have the ceremony here tonight, instead of in the temple as we planned."

"Do you think that's safe?" Eve asked.

Mystros sighed. "It is necessary."

"What's going on?" Xena asked. Her smile faded as she saw the seriousness in Eve and Mystros's eyes.

"Again," Mystros replied apologetically. "We do not have the time to tell you now. In the morning, Eve can explain it to you."

"It's okay, mom," Eve said automatically as she looked back at Xena, then she smiled. "That sounds so strange. I'm old enough, now, to be your mother?"

"Yet another twist in the family tree," Alexander said quickly.

Eve smiled and turned back to Mystros. "I'll tell the others."

"Thank you," Mystros nodded.

Eve excused herself and went to speak with the members of their party that were on their feet.

"Tell the others what?" Xena asked, refusing to wait until morning.

Mystros smiled wearily. "The Ritual of Transformation."

"The what?" Alexander asked.

"As I said," Mystros said calmly. "It would take too long to explain now. Be patient, please?"

Eve stepped back to stand beside the gaunt man.

"They're ready."

Mystros nodded.

Xena and Alexander stepped forward to get a better look at what was about to happen, but Eve stepped up to them.

"I need you to stay here," she said gently.

"Why?" Xena asked. Then she looked down at Eve's manner of dress, and weapons. "And what's with the chobos?"

"More of that long story," Eve smiled. "I promise that we'll explain everything as soon as Mystros is done."

"So?" Alexander asked. "Why do we need to stay back here?"

Eve's smile grew and she looked sidelong at Xena. "Because I know how my mom will react to this."

"Ah," Alexander nodded. He leaned in closer to his sister. "You're about to object to something."

"I got that much!" Xena hissed. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the gaunt form of Mystros kneel over the prone body. "I just don't know what I'm going to object to, yet."

The healer closed his eyes and placed one hand on the chest and the other on the forehead of the unconscious man.

The trio saw the frown of concentration deepen, as if he were attempting to move a heavy load. A soft pale glow enfolded the healer – something that hadn't happened before – and slowly moved down the arms to cover the body of the man called Lucious.

At the same moment, a second glow also began to swirl in wisps about the sick man.

"What in Tartarus?" Alex commented.

There was a soft flash as the energy from Mystros flowed into the prone body. At the same moment, another soft burst of light shot skyward, vanishing with a subtle flash.

The gaunt figure crumpled, toppling over to lay motionless next to the bier.

Alarmed, Xena darted forward, kneeling at the healer's side. Her fingers felt along his throat. When she looked up, her eyes were wide in astonishment.

"He's dead!" she gasped.

As she looked about at the faces of the others, she was startled to see that none of them wore a similarly horrified expression.

Her horror sank to confusion. It was eerily quiet as the followers of Eli did not speak or move. They merely looked down at the dead figure with expectant or impassive expressions.

"Mom," Eve said gently.

"Don't you get it?" Xena asked, her temper flaring. "He's dead!"

Suddenly, a hand clasped her wrist. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the contact.

Lucious opened his eyes and smiled at her knowingly.

"Please," he croaked. He took a few ragged breaths and began again. "Please, do not concern yourself. I am not dying, merely transferring."

Xena leapt back to her feet and looked down at the figure of Lucious. The sick man's color was rapidly returning to normal, and his dark eyes fixed upon her with complete recognition.

Eve interposed herself between Xena and Lucious.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Very tired, my dear," Lucious replied. "But stronger now than I have been for months." He smiled. "In the morning, I can begin healing the others of their injuries."

Xena and Alexander looked at one another with identically confused expressions.

"Okay," Alexander asked. "Would someone please tell me what just happened here?"

Eve helped the healed man to his feet.

Gently, the man removed the robe from the corpse and put it on. Then the two of them lifted the gaunt body onto the bier and covered it with a simple white shroud.

After some quiet discussion, of which Alexander and Xena were uninvolved. The Followers of Eli settled in to sleep for the remainder of the night.

"Okay, Xe," Alexander asked quietly. "What's going on?"

Xena's eyes were locked on the robed figure. They narrowed in suspicion as she watched him move.

Eve and Lucious soon returned to the fire and knelt before it. Lucious stretched his fingers towards the flames, absorbing the warmth.

"What are you?" Xena asked knowingly.

The man smiled in return.

"It's not something most people understand," he said. "I am – or was – what you refer to as a lesser demon."

Xena and Alexander were on their feet instantly, though Alexander's rise was brought on by shock, more than alarm.

Xena's sword rang free.

The followers of Eli also jumped to their feet, as did Eve, who once again moved to stand between Xena and her target.

"Mom, wait!" she exclaimed, her hands out to stay her. "Just hear him out?"

Xena looked into Eve's eyes and then back at the robed figure. When she looked back at her daughter, she saw complete faith in those blue eyes. Reluctantly, she lowered her weapon, though she did not return it to its sheath.

"Please?" Eve begged.

Xena looked over at the man expectantly. He merely nodded and gestured for them to retake their seats.

"Your reaction is precisely why we did not explain our intent to you before," he smiled. "We knew you would protest."

"So," Xena asked icily. "That other man?"

Mystros looked back at the shrouded body and smiled in memory. "His true name was Galen. In his day, he was a great scholar and philosopher."

"Until you possessed him," Xena added.

"As I said," Mystros explained. "In his day. By the time I found him, he had succumbed to the wasting of his own mind. He was senile, little more than a vegetable. I conversed with his spirit, and he gave me permission to utilize his body, since my previous host was also near death."

"You conversed with his spirit?" Alexander asked. "Is that possible?"

"For me," Mystros nodded. "You must understand something, my friend. Even if the body fails, the spirit – the soul – if you will, remains intact and vital as ever. Galen was a prisoner within his own physical body. Unable to move or speak, he was trapped, hoping for a final release."

"Which you so graciously gave him," Xena growled.

"In a word, yes," Mystros replied evenly.

"Mystros isn't your true name, is it?" Alexander asked. His dark eyes fixed on the robed figure, as if he were measuring him out.

Mystros smiled and nodded. "Very astute, young master."

"So?" Xena asked.

Mystros looked at Eve. She returned his gaze and smiled. "You might as well. They should know everything."

Tensing, as if the very utterance of his next words would cause him pain, he stared into the flames. "My true name is Inures – Son of Indrajed."

"Indrajed!" Xena was back on her feet, her weapon ready to strike him down where he sat.

The followers also leapt up and closed on them. They moved to surround the demon, but Mystros rose and held his hands out. "No! Please! Do not do this! She must make her own choice in this matter! You will shed no more blood for me tonight!"

He turned and put a hand on Eve's shoulder. She had her chobos out and stood ready to intercept her mother. Her eyes were wide as the adrenaline surged through her.

"It's alright," Mystros said calmly. "You, of all of us, should not raise weapons against her. Please?"

"But?" Eve began.

"It must be her choice, my dear," Mystros continued gently. "Set them aside, please?"

With great reluctance, Eve lowered her weapons and stood aside.

Mystros stepped forward and let the point of Xena's sword touch his chest.

"I would not have you harm these people," he offered sincerely. "Nor would I have you raise weapons against your own daughter. Strike me down, if you must, but ask yourself one question. Are there truly creatures in the universe that cannot find redemption?"

"If you believe this, then you must strike, now, and swiftly," Mystros continued. "If you do not, then I ask you to hear my tale before you strike?"

"Xe?" Alexander said gently.

"You don't understand," Xena hissed. "I fought his father! I know what he is!"

"You killed my father, Xena," Mystros corrected. "I knew who you were the moment you stepped into this camp. I could have escaped, or struck you down, but I have chosen to tell you the truth instead? I have placed my trust and my life in your hands?" His dark eyes stared into hers unflinchingly. "Do as you will."

"Please, listen to him," Eve pleaded.

Xena stared into the man's eyes and saw something that surprised her. There was no malice present. No ulterior motives that she could detect. Not even a plan of escape. This creature truly was at her mercy.

Slowly, Xena lowered her weapon and, this time, she returned it to the sheath on her hip.

"Well?"

Mystros smiled and gestured to the fire.

"Sit, please?" he offered.

Xena, Alexander, and Eve all seated themselves about the fire.

In the background, the rest of the followers of Eli also settled in for the night, though few took their eyes off the confrontation at the fire.

"When the Avatar was brought to my fathers' palace," Mystros began slowly. "I was amazed at how little fear he showed. He was completely comfortable with the possibility of his own demise. I found him fascinating. Something within me was moved by this. I cannot place a label upon it. It was no one feeling or revelation. I just found it fascinating? His disciple also seemed at peace, though her fear could easily be felt."

"Xe?" Alexander asked. "Is he saying that he saw mom?"

Mystros's eyebrows rose. "Indeed."

He paused for a few moments before continuing. "Where my father reveled in the fear he created in others, I found the sensation curiously unpleasant. It was a part of who I was, of course. I was born to be many things, but primarily, a tormentor of souls. But, the idea of an existence where fear was the only sensation, to me, was strangely unfulfilling?" He shrugged. "Then I beheld the Avatar and caught a brief glimpse of peace? I felt the power of a healing heart, of self-sacrifice for one's brother. In that moment, I was transfixed. It was a sensation that far surpassed fear in its intoxicating qualities. I had to experience this more!"

"So you took up body snatching?" Xena asked, still unconvinced.

Mystros smiled. "As a lesser demon of what you would call the Plane of Fire, I was unable to take an actual physical form. However, since such an act was inherently harmful to whomever I possessed, I could not do it?"

"Could not?" Xena asked in surprise.

Mystros smiled. "The seeds of Eli germinate quickly. I already understood that I could not harm another being to sate my curiosity. Hence, I was left with an impossible conundrum. In order to experience, for myself, the sensations of peace and love that Eli professed, I would have to harm another being. But, because the very act of taking a mortal body went against those teachings, I could do nothing?"

He smiled suddenly at his recollection. "My salvation came in the form of a mortally wounded thief. I was sent to retrieve his spirit, and return with it to my father's palace. When I found him, dying from a knife wound, I beheld, not a merciless assassin, but a desperate man, trying to survive. His last years had been ones where he had eked out his existence by pilfering food and drink in order to stay alive. In his heart, he had been a good man. He had merely fallen onto bad times. He had been stabbed by a street vendor who caught him stealing a loaf of bread.

I was surprised when he saw me coming for him. Instead of taking his soul, as I had been instructed. We spoke for a long time and I learned about his life and his beliefs. While not a true follower of the teachings of the Avatar, he did hold to some of those principles? Enough, in my mind, to warrant his freedom. In the end, I told him of my plight, and he asked that I take his body and allow his soul to fly free. This I did gladly, though I knew not how long I would last with so terrible a wound? That was the first time I transferred into a mortal form. In that moment, I realized that I could focus the energy – the life essence of that body – into healing. I was able to heal the wound, though the strain of it took years off the life of the body. In that way, I escaped my father's domain."

"Why didn't you help Eli and Gabrielle escape first?" Xena asked sternly.

"I was forbidden to interfere," Mystros replied. "Besides, any assistance that I might have offered would have involved violence, which was the one thing I was not permitted to use? I honestly could not assist them."

He sighed. "In any event, had to move quickly when I discovered the thief. Once I had his body, I had to get out of India as quickly as possible."

"Why?" Alexander asked.

"Because of the Rakshasa," Mystros replied.

"Rakshasa?" Xena asked.

"They are soul hunters," Mystros explained. "Masters of illusion. They guard the Plane of Fire and prevent souls from escaping. My father sent one after me when he learned of my betrayal. I have been hiding from him ever since."

Eve nodded. "In one sense, his transferring from one mortal body to another has helped him stay away from the Rakshasa."

"Oh, I'm sure," Xena replied.

Mystros caught the implication in her voice and shook his head. "It has never been like that!" he explained. "I only take the body of a person when they give it to me freely. In fact, I was against performing the ritual upon him, so deep was my respect for he and his family."

Xena was obviously unconvinced. "I'm sure."

"Mom," Eve sighed.

Mystros sighed. "Am I so different from you, Xena? Really?" he asked with a touch of impatience. "You yourself have been given a new life? Why can it not be the same for me?"

"I haven't stolen this body!" Xena shot back. "I was born into it, just like anyone else!"

"Are you certain of that?" Mystros replied. "Are you certain that another soul was not destined to be a child of your parents, and you didn't supplant them? What about you, young man?" he turned and looked at Alexander. "Do you know for certain that you are the soul that was destined for your parents when you were conceived?"

He looked at them both for a long moment and then sighed. "The only difference between us is that I partake of my rebirth more blatantly, and more frequently than most humans. Also, that I am aware of the transference, and so is the person who's body I inhabit. I cannot take a body against their will. They must permit it; otherwise the effort would destroy me."

He gestured to himself.

"This body," he explained. "The body of my friend, Lucious, was the most precious of gifts. Lucious was one of the few people I have encountered that I could call both friend and confidant. I attempted to heal his sickness for months before he finally asked me to stop."

"He asked you to do this?" Alexander asked.

Mystros nodded. "It was his wish. Lucious was a man of high principles and great generosity. The last time we spoke together, was after my last attempt to heal his fever. For some reason, my treatment of him would alleviate his symptoms for a short time, a matter of weeks, and then they would return, and he would slowly sink back into feverish sleep. Unless I treated him, he would not awaken and eventually would have died. This went on for months. Finally, he asked me to stop."

"Mystros," he said to me. "There's no point in your coming back here every month, just to wake me up. My time has come."

"Nonsense," I told him. "It's just a matter of time before we beat this thing? It can't last forever?"

"No," he replied. "It cannot."

Then he looked at me with a seriousness that was so unlike him. As if he were measuring out the remaining days I had in Galen's body. "You have wasted enough of your energy on me, old friend. When the sleep falls upon me again, I want you to take this body."

"Lucious," I replied. "You've hardly walked the earth for more than forty years? That is far too short a time?"

To that, he merely smiled and pointed over to his home. It was a simple, modest structure, well built and homey. It was not to that simple structure that he was indicating, however. It was to the long, unused horse cart that rested along side.

"I don't know why I've kept that," he mused, looking at me. "My horse died off several years ago and I've never had enough money to get another one. Once the fever began hitting me, I never needed another horse. I could just break it up and use it for firewood, but?" he shrugged. Then he looked at me and smiled. "I suppose I keep it because I think it could still be useful. I think that, maybe, when I've passed on, someone on a horse might come by and find it?" He shrugged and looked at me again.

"Inures," he said, using my true name, which was something he only did when he was the most serious. "If my body was this cart, and my spirit, the horse, then it's painfully obvious that this horse is just about done in."

"Very metaphorical," I replied.

"And, no offense," He continued. "Your "cart" is looking a little worse for wear?"

"I'll be fine," I protested.

"I'm asking you," Lucious pressed me. "This frame will last you longer than the old men and women that you've endured in the past."

His eyes bored into mine, and something like a smile began to appear at the corners of his mouth.

"You know I'm right," he said with a nod.

It took several more hours of this kind of talk, but, in the end, I finally relented.

Mystros looked at Xena pointedly. "Thus, do I sit before you now, reborn, just as you have been?"

Xena looked deeply into Mystros's eyes. Unbelievably, she could find no trace of deceit in his gaze. Nothing – not even a twitch of untruth in his face, posture, or demeanor.  
"So?" she asked. "What happens next?"

Mystros sighed. "In the morning, we lay Galen to rest, and you can watch me heal the injuries of the others. After that, if you decide that I am not worthy, you may use your weapon."

"No!" Eve blurted.

"Eve," Mystros held out his hand. "It is her choice to make, not yours."

He rose and nearly stumbled over. He smiled a little sheepishly.

"New body is like a new house," he laughed in embarrassment. "Takes a little time to settle in."

"I'm sure," Xena forced a smile.

Mystros caught the subtle insult, and his smile faded slightly. Then he gave them all another, more sober nod and went to the other side of the camp to sleep.

"Mom," Eve said in a stern whisper. "You have to promise me that you won't do anything to him?"

Xena looked at Alexander, who offered a shrug in reply, and then back.

"What?"

"Your word!" Eve demanded.

"Why should I –"

"Because I love him!" Eve whispered urgently.

"Whoa," Alexander gasped.

Xena's eyes went wide in surprise.

"What did you say?"

Eve fixed her mother with an icy stare that quickly melted into melancholy.

"I love him, mom."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Well," David mused as he walked along the narrow forest path. "I suppose it was only a matter of time?" His dark eyes surveyed the leaves above his head, watching the sunlight sparking between them. Beside him, his wife, Gabrielle strolled with him, her arm hooked through his. She smiled.

"You're almost sixty, David," she replied, smiling. "You can't expect yourself to be able to keep up with the kids like you used to. You know that?"

David waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not talking about all that. I'm talking about me, in general. My work and all that?"

"Work?" Gabrielle looked up at his wizened face and smiled. "What work? You haven't had a project for months?"

"That's what I mean," David replied. He ran his other hand through his thick mane of graying hair and sighed. "I always knew that Timitus or Salius would eventually steal all my business. I just wasn't expecting them to do it so soon, and so fast?"

"Soon? Fast?" Gabrielle laughed. "David, it's been three months? And you've been fighting them tooth and nail? Never mind that you've been in business for more than twenty years? You deserve to relax now."

"I've been put out to pasture," David grumbled. "Like a worn out plow horse. Good thing we don't have a glue factory around here."

Gabrielle laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder and giving him an encouraging squeeze. A soft smile crept across her lips. "You're not that worn out," she said slyly. "There are still a couple things you do as well as ever."

David laughed. "If I had known that little elixir of Aphrodite's would do what it did, ten years ago, I might have thought twice about it?"

"It was a gift," Gabrielle smiled. "She only meant well?"

"That was what I thought, at first," David smiled.

"And you didn't even think about it?" Gabrielle replied. "You're smarter than that, dear. You knew what she was talking about."

"Fine," David admitted. "I guessed that it was a little something to keep you – how should I say it? Active?"

"That's one way to say it," Gabrielle laughed.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting it to turn you into a dynamo!" David laughed. "Sometimes I wonder how I'll keep up? I wonder if she's planning on dropping by any time soon. I might need to ask her for the Greek equivalent of Viagra?"

Gabrielle laughed out loud and leaned her head against his shoulder again, looking up into his eyes.

He looked down at her and smiled. Despite her age, she was still beautiful to look at. Yes, there were the tell tale wrinkles and the slightly wizened change in her voice, but she was still in remarkably good health. At fifty-five, she could easily pass for ten years younger.

The elixir that he referred to had been a gift from the Goddess on their twentieth wedding anniversary. While David had not had any reason to complain about their relationship, Gabrielle had apparently discussed certain issues with the bubbly Goddess. To that end, Aphrodite had presented her with a small vial of liquid, and suggested that she imbibe the stuff, stating that it would "keep her going." The mixture had been more potent than initially expected, though at the time, David found no reason to complain. Now, five years later, he was beginning to wonder how much longer he would be able to handle Gabrielle's libido.

Granted, it wasn't as if the Goddess had turned his wife into a nymph. That wasn't the issue, but David had begun to suspect that there was a reason why people's sexual drives began to cool as they aged. Granted, their mutual passions had been part of what had kept them together for the last quarter century in the first place. Somehow, in the final analysis, the lack of entropy on the physical side only served to strengthen the already unbreakable bonds formed on other, more important levels.

Besides, from a purely pragmatic point of view, when faced with the inevitability of his own mortality, he could think of worse ways to go.

David chuckled out loud suddenly.

Gabrielle looked up at him and smiled. "What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking," David said. "Despite all the hazards of living in this time period, you very well could be the death of me?" He sighed theatrically.

Gabrielle laughed and jabbed him in the side.

"At least I'd go with a smile?" David offered.

"You're terrible," Gabrielle laughed.

David threw his arm over her shoulders and held her close as they walked through the trees.

Gabrielle looked up at him and smiled.

Yes, he was passing sixty years of age, and yes, he was beginning to show signs of slowing down, but, like her, he was still in remarkable health considering.

His advanced years had only lent a distinguished look to his rugged features. His eyes were still the deep, clear, thoughtful brown, and his hair, though mostly gray, hung in a long tail between his shoulders.

His modern garments had long ago been lost to the passing of time, and now he favored a simple pair of sturdy boots, brown breeches and a cream colored tunic.

Though he had thinned down somewhat over the years, the loose fitting garment covered a still powerfully built and uncommonly lithe frame. Still, while his musculature was hardly changed, there was a noticeable stiffness in his joints that was apparent in his movements. The prominent scarring covering his left eye was also still visible, a jagged criss crossing of old tissue that bisected the skin over his eye, looking like a four pointed star. He had received the wound just after their first adventure together, in his future world. A world that seemed distant to the both of them now.

Still, whenever she looked into his eyes, she felt that same enchantment, undiminished, even after all the years that had passed. She still saw the wonder in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

"You know," Gabrielle said lightly. "I've been thinking. Why don't we go somewhere special for our anniversary? It's going to be twenty five years, after all. We should celebrate it?"

"What'd you have in mind?" David asked.

Gabrielle shrugged. "I don't know," she mused. "We could head out to Carthedge? Granted, it's a bit of a trip, but I hear that it's still a great place to relax? Alexander and Xena mentioned it, and thought it would be a nice little vacation for all four of us?"

David stopped short and placed a hand next to his ears with theatrical flourish, his mouth open in mock disbelief.

"Dost mine ears deceive me?" he exclaimed. "Is my wife actually contemplating a trip across the ocean?" He began fumbling about, as if searching for pockets on his clothing. "I have to write this down."

"Well, if you don't want to?" Gabrielle retorted.

They came out of the forest and found the road that would take them back into town.

"No, no," David said quickly. "I think it would be great! I remember a paper I read about the ruins at Carthedge, back when I was a student. They're supposed to have a bath house there that's a modern wonder for the times? Might be interesting to see?"

"A paper?" Gabrielle looked at him dubiously. "From when you were a student?"

"Yeah," David nodded. Then his voice trailed off. "Long before we ever met."

They continued down the well worn road that led towards the main gates of Poditea. The two young militia men greeted them politely as the elderly couple passed into the village proper.

There wasn't a person in the village that didn't know David and Gabrielle, or their previous adventures, though some of them had been embellished over the years.

As they entered, they spied Salius, the former innkeeper's eldest son, seated on a sturdy chair outside his modest inn.

"Hi Salius," Gabrielle greeted him pleasantly. "What's happening?"

Salius was a man of moderate size and proportionately built. His hair was a thick, curly brown, almost black, and his dark eyes studied the normal traffic of the village closely.

"Well," He finally sighed. "Looks like business as usual." He smiled and gestured down the nearby street in the direction of the village market. "Or, rather, lack thereof. Since they moved the market down there, my traffic has slowed down a bit, so at present, not too much happening. You two hungry?"

"I could go for a bite?" David nodded, looking down at his wife. "Hungry?"

Gabrielle shrugged and nodded. "Sure."

The inn was a large brick and wood structure, more or less in what was now considered the old center of the town. As they approached, David noted the recent repairs to the front and the recently added out door eating garden beneath a large thatched roof, surrounded by a low wooden fence. He nodded approvingly. "You two have been busy."

Salius smiled proudly. "Like it? Timitus came up with the idea of having the extra seats outside during the warm months."

"Very nice," Gabrielle smiled. "I say we eat outside?"

"Works for me," David agreed.

They seated themselves at a small table, and watched idly as people went by, going about the various activities of daily life.

"I'll let Timitus know you're here," Salius offered. "Wine?"

They both nodded.

"I'll have some of the old Amazon whiskey, if you don't mind?" David replied easily.

"David," Gabrielle cautioned him. "You know that stuff doesn't agree with you any more?"

Salius smiled knowingly and a soft chuckle escaped him.

David gave him a pointed look and then sat back. "I allow one drink a month," he said.

Gabrielle looked at him sternly, her elbows resting on the table.

David merely folded his arms across his chest and matched her critical stare with a stubborn one of his own.

"Fine," Gabrielle relented after a few seconds. She looked up at Salius. "Just mix it with some water, please?"

"What?" David protested. "You can't water that stuff down? That's sacrilegious!"

Again, those emerald eyes fixed on him. Finally, she sighed.

"Fine," she raised a finger in his direction. "But I don't want to hear you complaining later, when you spend an hour in the bathroom?"

Salius snorted as his laugh escaped. "I'll be right back."

When he got to the door, he looked over at Gabrielle and motioned that he would add some water to the caustic drink. Gabrielle smiled sweetly and nodded, and then she turned back to David. He was staring out past her into the street, lost in his thoughts as he absently fished out his pipe and began filling it with tobacco.

"I hear wheels turning?" she offered.

David blinked. "Hm? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking."

"I know," Gabrielle smiled. "What about?"

David watched as several more patrons entered the establishment.

"Just about how much everything has changed in the last twenty five years, you know?" David replied, musing.

"It has changed a lot, hasn't it?" Gabrielle agreed. She smiled at him, and saw something dark in his face that told her his thoughts were not just pleasant memories.

"And?" she continued.

David frowned. "I don't know. I just remember some of the preliminary reports I read on this place. You know, before I came to Greece and figured out how to get back to you? Something about those reports makes all of this a little hinky."

David sighed and lit his pipe as his eyes scanned the surrounding area closely. Two thousand years from now, this place would be nothing more than a series of ancient foundation walls, unearthed in an archeological expedition. There would be very little left for them to see.

"Hinky?" Gabrielle repeated, smiling. "What's 'hinky'?"

"Strange, weird, off," David explained. "You know? Hinky?"

"Oh yeah," Gabrielle nodded. "That makes everything perfectly clear." She laughed. "After all this time, you still manage to occasionally throw one of your modern expressions out and confuse me."

David smiled absently as he tried desperately to recall the summary written about the site of the village, all those years ago. He could see the paper. He could even tell what font the damn thing had been typed up in. He just couldn't remember the damn words.

Salius emerged from the inn bearing three mugs. He set them down upon the table and took a seat.

David gratefully took his drink. The worrisome report was once again filed in the back of his mind. He could spend some time at home, trying to recall it when he had a bit of peace and quiet. He took a small swallow, and immediately coughed in surprise.

"Hey!" He protested. "What did you do to this?"

He sniffed the contents cautiously and his eyes went wide in a mixture of surprise and revulsion. He tossed the offending mug to the ground. His eyes went wide when he saw the liquid splash upon the packed ground.

"What?" Gabrielle asked.

David's eyes were fixed upon the stain in growing horror. The stain spreading on the ground was the deep, brilliant crimson of blood. Even when he knew that the contents of the mug had emptied, the stain continued to spread with unnatural speed, covering a large patch near their table. He shifted his feet away as the dark pool oozed a bit too close for comfort.

"David?" Salius asked, looking down at the spilled alcohol in confusion. "What's the matter?"

David looked up at them and then back at the spreading blood on the ground.

"That!" he pointed. "Is this someone's idea of a sick joke?"

Frowning, Gabrielle rose and peered over the table at the spilled drink, frowning.

Salius picked up the mug, apparently oblivious to the small lake of blood his feet were standing in. He sniffed before looking back at the two of them. "I don't understand?"

Gabrielle looked at the genuinely horrified expression on David's face, and then back down at the alcohol soaking into the dirt. The realization crept over her.

"What are you seeing, David?" she asked knowingly.

David looked at the stain and then at his wife. "You're saying you don't see that?"

"I agree that the stuff is bad," Salius offered. He set the bloody mug back on the table, and David watched in horror as it seemed to refill and begin to overflow onto the table in front of them. "But I've never seen you toss it away like that?"

David jumped to his feet and took several steps back from the gory fount as it covered the table and began pouring to the ground.

"David?" Gabrielle asked evenly. The sound of her voice snapped his rapture and he looked down at her, seated at the table, her expression one of growing concern.

David looked back at the table, and then down at the spill. This time, it was only that, a small stain of discarded alcohol, sinking into the earth. The flood of red was gone. He shuddered.

"Blood," he said in a mute voice. "I saw and tasted blood."

"Blood!" Salius exclaimed.

"Salius," David asked urgently. "When did Timitus get this batch? How long ago?"

Salius thought for a moment. "Just last month. Why?"

David looked at Gabrielle, his expression was a mask of dread.

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked.

"Something's happened," David said in a haunted voice. "Something horrible!"

"What are you talking about?" Gabrielle asked.

Then David felt it. A cold, life wrenching sensation that seemed to slice right through his gut. He gasped in shock and almost fell back.

Salius and Gabrielle helped him back into a seat, his eyes staring straight ahead in mute shock.

His wife knelt before him, her eyes searching his.

"My God," David whispered.

"Honey?" Gabrielle asked, her hand resting against his cheek. "Please, talk to me?"

David looked into her eyes. "Alia," he whispered. "And the other Amazons. I think they're dead?"

She dare not move. That was the first thing she realized. It wasn't from lack of courage. It was because she knew nothing could be done. She blinked and wiped away the stray blood that was dripping into her eye as she crouched in the boughs of the tree and looked on in horror.

Thick smoke rose from numerous fires, and the stench of death and burning corpses floated upon the wind. The village was gone, razed to the ground, and her sisters lay scattered on the forest floor.

Dark robed figures moved through the dead and injured, the latter, they finished off wherever they found them. The screams of the dying echoed in her ears.

Antonia's right hand was tucked into her shirt, the limb was blood soaked and hung useless. A wave of dizziness swept over her and she nearly fell from her place of concealment in the boughs of the tree. The screams of her dying sisters brought her back. Then she spied a single figure moving through the carnage with total detachment. Here and there, it would lift one of the dead and examine her face, as if searching for one particular person. The figure had long golden hair and carried a simple Amazon fighting staff in her right hand. She wore a simple green halter, dark skirt, and sturdy dark boots. But this woman was no Amazon.

Two robed figures emerged from the queens' hut, dragging a bound Alia between them. They shoved her to the ground before this stranger and stood back, waiting.

The strange woman turned to face them, and Antonia's jaw fell open in horror and disbelief.

As quietly as she could, Antonia moved from tree to tree, seeking to escape the massacre.

Alia coughed, forcing the pain down. Her eyes took in the death and destruction around her. The bodies of her sisters lay scattered about the clearing, many with eyes still staring blankly into the sun.

A pair of simple boots stopped in front of her and, forcing the pain aside, she turned her face upward.

"You are the queen?" a cold, yet familiar voice asked.

Alia's eyes widened in disbelief when she saw the face of her inquisitor.

"Gabrielle?" She stammered.

The young woman smiled a smile that might have appealed to a viper. "Not exactly, but that proves you know my mother."

Alia's mouth fell open, and terror flooded over her heart like a cold wave.

"Hope!" she breathed.

Again, that crocodile smile spread as she knelt down in front of the fallen queen. "You know of me?"

Alia nodded. "I've heard a few things." She managed to gasp. "Nothing good. You're supposed to be dead?"

Hope stooped and picked up a discarded dagger. She looked at the Amazon Queen, as if studying her.

"There's something different about you," she commented, almost as if she were voicing a private thought.

Another pale, robed figure stepped up behind her.

"It is done," he reported.

Hope smiled and nodded once, dismissing the priest. Then she turned her cold green eyes on Alia.

"What is it?" she asked. She looked into the other woman's eyes, her entire face filled with almost childish curiosity. "What's hiding behind those lovely eyes of yours?"

Alia managed a grim smile. The inevitability of what was to come settled down upon her like a cold stone. "Just wondering if I could have a drink before we got started?"

Hope smiled coldly, her eyes drifting down to the small flask in the Amazon Queen's belt. She pulled the silver container free and popped the top, sniffing curiously. She smelled the strong alcohol, but that was all.

"Why not," she agreed, and she tipped the flask in the prisoner's mouth.

Alia took a swallow and felt the burn descend through her throat. Then she took another swallow and held it in her mouth as Hope pulled the flask away. Her eyes closed tightly, as if she were gathering some internal strength.

"Better?" Hope asked.

Alia nodded and spit the second mouthful on the ground.

"Neste Sequinte," Alia whispered, her eyes opened wide, staring up into the sun.

Instantly, Hope felt the power burst from the prisoner, like a rapidly expanding bubble. The energy itself did her no harm, but the intent of the spell was clear. This Amazon Queen had sent out a message!

She tossed the flask away and took Alia's face in her hand.

"That was a foolish thing to do!" she hissed.

Alia smiled triumphantly. "Let's just get this over with, you worthless little shit!"

Hope's cold eyes went hard, and she nodded her head.

"As you like."

Alia gasped as the dagger sliced across her belly.

"Tell me?" Hope asked. "What's my mother been up to?"

Alia looked down at the wound. It was not deep enough to disembowel her. Just enough to cause excruciating pain. She looked back up into those cold eyes and understood that the torture she was about to receive would be the same for her friends.

"Go fuck yourself!" she hissed.

Hope smiled knowingly.

"You have spirit," she smiled. "Even I can respect that. You're hoping that I'll lose patience and kill you quickly?"

Then she looked up at the two priests on either side of the prisoner.

"Tie her up," she ordered. She watched as the two priests bound Alia's wrists and hoisted her to her feet against a broken wall.

Hope stepped up to her and smiled. "Much better," she said. "Now, you were saying?"

She slashed the blade across her belly again.

Alia winced in agony, but didn't scream. When she looked back at her tormentor, her eyes blazed.

"Go fuck yourself!" she hissed again.

Antonia stumbled out of the forest and onto the familiar field that marked the beginning of Rasten's farmstead. Her limbs were leaden and her vision was blurred, but she could see the small home, very close. She half ran, half staggered across the tilled field towards the home, praying that her lover would see her through the window and come to her aid.

She made it to the door and found four of the robed priests lying dead just inside.

A fierce smile appeared on her lips as she struggled to remain conscious.

"Way to go, love," she thought. She stumbled into the back room and stopped short. There, lying on the floor beneath a fifth fallen priest was her lover, Rasten. A dagger protruded from his chest while another was lodged in the back of his attacker.

She pulled the corpse off Rasten and dropped to his side, her fingers running through his hair as the tears stung her eyes worse than the blood from earlier. She bent over him, kissing his cheek and sobbing in despair. As the grief washed over her, her eyes drifted to the open window and she saw the fires of Tripolis burning in the setting sun. The entire village was ablaze, but that wasn't the most frightening thing about it. Horror filled her soul when she heard nothing but the crackle of the hungry flames as they consumed the village. No cries of fear, or pain, no figures moving to escape. Everything was silent. The odor of burning bodies filled the air with its charnel stench.

Her grief vanished in that terrible moment.

"I have to get away from here," she realized. "I have to warn someone! I have to find David and Gabrielle!"

She looked back down at Rasten and closed his eyes.

"I gotta go now," she whispered. Gathering her strength, she rose and turned away, collecting a few things to tend her injuries once she was clear of the massacre, then she headed for the door.

A single figure stood in the main room, clothed in the dark robes of the attackers. In one pale hand, he held Rasten's quiver of arrows, but no bow.

Grim reality found its way through the pain and the despair, and her eyes narrowed in rage. All of her weariness fell away.

With a cry of pure fury, she charged the intruder.

He merely raised his hand and flicked a finger in her direction. One of Rasten's arrows exploded from the quiver and struck her in the abdomen. The force of the shot sent her reeling back against the wall, her eyes wide with shock.

The priests face was unreadable, impassive and cold. His white eyes fixed on her with the same predatory calm of a snake, waiting for its venom to subdue its prey.

Antonia gasped from the pain. "Why?" she asked.

The priest smiled. "It is our way," he said in a voice that was smooth as iced honey.

He flicked his finger again, and this time, all the rest of Rasten's arrows shot across the room and pierced her flesh. She felt them bite into her body, felt them puncture places deep within her. Her final strength seemed to seep from the wounds along with her blood and she slid to the floor, her chest heaving for breath that her punctured lungs would no longer accept. Then, with one final shuddering gasp, her eyes rolled back and she went still.

The priest stood still for a moment, staring down at the dead woman, as if contemplating what he had just witnessed. Then he turned towards the door. Stopping at the threshold, he looked back and pointed at the wooden table in the center of the room. There was a momentary scent of acrid smoke, and the wood crackled into flames.

"It is the way of Dahok," he said, looking at the fallen woman again, and then he vanished back out into the hell that had been Tripolis.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The fine blue fabrics of his robes were heavy in the humidity as he continued down the small, well worn path through the dense foliage. He was tall and lithe, with almond colored skin and black hair. His eyes were a lighter brown, almost golden, and they surveyed his surroundings with the intensity of a hunting animal following an elusive scent.

He had no name of his own. He had never been given one. Only a title – one that served to forewarn those he tracked as to their fate. He was a Rakshasa – a soul hunter. He was a warden of the Planes of Fire, a place from which no soul should ever escape. He shrugged in his robes, trying in vain to air away some of the moisture, but it the attempt failed. His handsome features twisted into a subtle look of dissatisfaction.

Why his prey would choose to exist in such balmy conditions was beyond his reasoning. It was so unlike the arid climes that he was used to walking. So alien from his home.

He sighed. "Then again," he thought. "That is probably why he did choose these lands. None of our kind would wish to endure it. Indeed, in the past, our kind would never have traveled as far as this. The Gods of the Greeks would have prevented that."

He found the campsite easily enough, in spite of the efforts of his prey to disguise their trail.

He paced about the cold ashes of the campfire, his eyes studying the earth around him. He made out the subtle variances in the topography easily enough.

"Six of you slept here," he knelt, staring at the earth. Then he saw the four tiny indentations. "And the seventh, upon a bier, there."

His golden eyes traversed the opposite side of the campsite. There he found the remains of another, smaller fire.

"And you, my friend, and your consort, rested here," he smiled softly. At any other time, the smile would have appeared friendly, warm, almost seductive. This time, however, there was a touch of frost to it that seemed to chill the immediate air around him.

It melted into a frown as he continued his observation. Two more sets of tracks?

"And who were you, I wonder?" he asked aloud in a soft, silky, mildly accented voice.

He moved over to the new tracks and knelt down. His fingers gently touched the shallow impression, as if sensing the person who made them. Then his fingers curled, scooping up a small amount and he held it to his nostrils, sniffing curiously.

Beneath the deep, moist, earthy scent he detected something else. He smiled as he recognized the subtle blend. Olives mixed in measure with the scent of flowers.

"Rose oil," he whispered. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience. He frowned as he contemplated the footprint of the person that had left that scent. Booted feet, like the boots of a warrior, and yet the effluvium spoke of a woman?

"Curious?" he mused.

The second scent was easier to deduce. It was male, a little smaller in size, but also in the footwear of a warrior. He noted that and turned his attention back to his task.

He easily found the scent of his quarry and he smiled as he moved about, retracing the movements of the party that previous evening. Then his smile melted into a frown. He found the last slight indentation, next to where the bier had been placed. Silently, he admonished himself for not seeing it earlier. Then again, his quarry had been terribly emaciated by this time, and there had been little mass or weight to disturb the moist soil. He scooped up another small amount of earth and sniffed. The odor was the same as always, with only a slight difference this time. It had a subtle undertone of something unpleasant. He nodded in understanding. He knew the scent of death when he smelled it.

"So, Inures," he smiled. "The old carcass finally gave out on you, eh?"

His attention turned again to the place where the bier had lain and he frowned. "So, whose body are you working in now?" he knelt on all fours and brought his head close to the earth, sniffing for this new trail that he would follow.

He found it after a few moments, and smiled in triumph.

"What in the world are you doing?" a voice asked.

The Rakshasa froze, his face inches from the earth. He could sense the presence of two individuals immediately behind him, no more than fifteen feet away.

"I am praying," he said calmly. His smile slowly reasserted itself.

"Pray later," the voice said sharply. "Give us your money, valuables, anything you might be carrying."

"I do not have such trinkets," The Rakshasa replied easily. "As I said, I am praying."

There was a soft snort of indignation. "Get up!" the voice ordered again, and this time, he heard the sound of a blade being drawn.

"But I am praying for you," The Rakshasa continued evenly.

Another blade was drawn.

With a resigned sigh, the Rakshasa rose and smoothed out the folds of his robe with feline deliberation. Then he clasped his hands together and stared at them two thieves impassively.

"What do you wish of me?" he asked calmly. He eyed the two would-be thieves closely. They were each rather young, dirty and unkempt. One of them held a decrepit sword while the second, casually held a cruel looking dagger in his hand.

"Your weapons will not gain from me, that which I do not possess," he stated simply.

The one holding the knife sneered. "I don't know," he said, looking sidelong at his companion. "I think those robes would fetch a decent price?"

The Rakshasa held his hands out in non committal form and shrugged.

"And you plan to take them off me?" he asked with that unnerving smile.

"If we have to," The one with the sword chuckled. "I'd hate to get blood on them though?"

"As would I," The Rakshasa replied. "I'm curious, gentlemen? How do you plan to take them from me, if I will not give them to you willingly?"

"How do you think?" The man with the knife asked. "What are you, stupid or crazy?"

"You would kill me?" The Rakshasa asked as that interminable smile returned. "With those?" He gestured to the weapons in their hands.

The knife wielder looked down and was startled to see, not his trusty dagger, but a ripe, yellow banana, while his companion suddenly cried out in alarm as his sword transformed into a serpent that began to coil about his arm.

Both men were so shocked by this that they instantly let their weapons fall, and saw them land on the ground at their feet.

They looked at one another in complete astonishment and then at their intended victim. He stood poised, unmoving, his hands still clasped in front of him, staring deeply into their wide eyes.

In horror, both men watched as the figure of the man, now, slowly became something altogether more terrifying.

The face elongated into a distinctly feline snout, and thick, soft orange and black fur emerged around the face and neck, the latter framed by tufts of white.

The golden cats' eyes stared into their souls.

"Tell me?" the creature's voice asked in a low, melodic purr. "What is it that you fear the most?"

The tiger face stared at them with animalistic intensity, and then both men paled and cried out.

The one who had held the sword began flailing wildly and gurgling in panic, his arms floundering up and down like a drowning man while his companion began running wildly about, frantically brushing unseen terror from his body and screaming "Get them off me! Get them off me!"

The gurgling man finally fell to the ground, kicked and flailed a few more moments and lay still, while the other one tripped on a snag in the ground and fell face first into the mud. He rolled over and looked at some unseen terror as he scooted away, his eyes darting all about him in blind panic. Tiny bite marks began to appear on the exposed flesh of his arms and face as he cried out in agony before he, too, finally clutched at his chest and went rigid. Then he also ceased to move.

The Rakshasa stepped over to the two fallen men and gazed down at them with catlike curiosity. Then it reached one fur covered, claw like hand and placed it upon the forehead of the first man. There was a hissing sound, like a distant scream, and the Rakshasa withdrew the nebulous sheet of fog that was the man's soul. He opened the small pouch that hung from his simple black belt and slipped the soft form into it, and then he repeated the gesture with the second assailant, stuffing that soul into his pouch as well.

The tiger face and claws shifted once again, and he stood their, almond skinned, and fair of features, a simple traveler once more.

His eyes scanned the campsite one more time, reassuring himself that he had not missed any other pertinent details. Then he turned and began following this new scent.

"No, no, no," Mystros was waving his hand before him and smiling. "Forgive me, young master, but that is completely incorrect."

"How can you say that?" Alexander protested.

"Because the two points of view are mutually exclusive," Mystros replied with a chuckle.

"Think about it," he explained. "The teachings of Eli followed a philosophy of non violence. There were no exceptions. His teachings were presented as absolutes, without any variation possible, yes?"

"Of course," Alexander replied.

"Then how can a belief system destroy evil if it is not even permitted to defend itself and its own teachings?" Mystros asked. "If they resist or fight, the disavow anything that they themselves teach, and if they do nothing, they die along with their message? Taken as an absolute, it is an impossible mission."

"But that was what Eli taught," Xena added to the debate. "Now, I don't say that I believed everything he said, but the message is sound."

"Oh, I do agree on that point, Xena," Mystros replied. "The message of the Avatar is very sound. It was the interpretation of the message that was flawed."

"How so?" Xena asked.

"Here we go," Eve muttered softly. A knowing smile appeared.

Mystros heard the gentle rebuke and smiled.

"Granted," he admitted. "I have had some considerable experience over the past few centuries? I have seen dozens of Avatars come and go, and they each taught a lesson similar to your friend, one of love and understanding. A Path of Peace, as the last one called it, or the Way of Love, as some others have named it. I tend to agree with the latter, but not the former."

"But they both mean the same thing," Xena said. "Don't they?"

"No," Mystros replied immediately. "They do not."

"Yes they do," Eve said in a quiet, lilting voice.

Mystros laughed. "Eve and I always end up in this same debate after she has had to use her weapons in defense of us. And as always, we will agree to disagree on various points."

"Such as?" Alexander asked eagerly.

Xena suppressed a small smile and edged back to walk beside her daughter. "You'll like this. If there's one thing my brother loves, it's a great debate."

Eve grinned. "That bad?"

"He's worse than mom," Xena caught herself. "I mean, your aunt."

In spite of the near silence of their whispered conversation, Mystros turned and gave them both a dubious, knowing look.

"We shall see, my dear," he replied. Then he turned to Alexander.

"Very well," he began. "I will give you a short summation of the two paths, as I have heard them discussed over the centuries. After which, you may make up your own mind. Please stop me if you have any questions, fair enough?"

Alexander shrugged and gave a nod.

"As messages go, the two interpretations that have been most predominant in recent history were the Path of Peace, and the Way of Love. Both are variations on a theme of the true message sent by the divine, Oma, the one who leads souls to enlightenment. With me so far?"

"Of course," Alexander nodded. "Two interpretations of the same message."

"Good." Mystros nodded. "Now, consider this. I tell a story to your sister, and then tell the identical story to you. Would you both remember it the same way? Would the imagery in your mind be identical to the imagery in the mind of your sister?"

"Of course not!" Alexander said with a sly smile in the direction of her sister. "She's a girl."

"Hey!" Xena shot back. "Keep an open mind, remember?"

Mystros chuckled and looked back at the girls. "His example is a little simplistic, but still accurate, Xena. You would recall certain details that were more relevant to you, and your brother would do the same, but in different parts of the story. You might be more intrigued by any military aspects of my tale, while your brother might focus more on the dialogue, you understand?"

"Yeah," Xena replied.

"My point is this: You would not relate the same story in the same way to others, and they would have their own interpretations based on what they hear and retain, and thus is the truth diluted." Mystros held out his hands. "And so, I believe, has the true message of the Avatar of Oma, over the last millennia."

"So?" Alexander asked. "Explain how the title of the message has warped its purpose?"

"That is the easy part, Master Alexander," Mystros nodded.

"When one contemplates peace, they tend to eliminate any actions that would nullify that peace. Instead, they begin to try and break the cycle of violence, as Eli named it. To break something, either physically or metaphorically, is still breaking something. The deliberate breaking of something is, in itself, an act of violence, is it not?"

"But it isn't a literal breaking!" Eve blurted, bringing up the old argument.

"No?" Mystros raised an eyebrow. "You seek to alter, change, disrupt, break a cycle of life, and that cannot be called evil because no physical objects are broken?"

"How are we breaking anything?" Xena asked, empathizing with her daughter.

"Because you are deliberately trying to alter the basic nature of mankind," Mystros replied. "You are attempting to purge him of his negative aspects. He, who breaks a thing in order to fix it, has left the path of wisdom. It's that simple."

"So?" Alexander said, completely engrossed in the debate. "The Path of Peace is based on true facts, distorted by interpretation?"

"Nearly," Mystros nodded. "It is not distorted, or changed. Merely abbreviated."

He turned and looked at Xena with a knowing smile.

"Xena," he asked. "Do you believe in the principles of the Path of Peace? That violence of any kind is not acceptable under any circumstances? It is what your daughter believed?"

Xena looked at Eve and nodded. "It was what Eli taught, and I respect that."

"Then I need not worry about you destroying me, no matter what I do," Mystros said simply. He smiled as Xena frowned.

"If you believe the principles of the Path of Peace, as taught by the Avatar, Eli, then I am safe from retribution, even if I decided to kill your brother and daughter before your eyes."

"No, you wouldn't!" Xena countered.

"Yes, he would," Alexander said, nodding his head. He fixed an understanding look on his older sister. "Yes, he definitely would."

"What?" Xena was completely astonished.

"Think about it Xe," Alexander held his hands up in front of him. "Eli taught that Peace and Love would break the Cycle of Violence, right?"

"Right?" Xena nodded.

"In order to break that cycle, then his followers had to understand that they could not resort to violence, no matter what the circumstances." Alexander continued. "Mystros, or you, or I or Eve could walk up to the Elijans and run them through at our leisure, without fear of retribution from the others, because their credo doesn't allow it!"

"By following the Path of Peace, the followers of Eli were embracing a massive contradiction." Mystros continued.

This time, Alexander paused and looked at Mystros in confusion. "Uh, I hadn't taken it that far yet?"

"Eli spoke of breaking the cycle of violence through non violent acts of demonstration, compassion and self sacrifice, yes?" Mystros asked, looking at Xena and Eve. "And therein lays the inherent contradiction."

This time all three of them looked at him, thoroughly confused.

"By the standards set down by Eli, evil is to be destroyed through non violent acts of tolerance and compassion. While I agree that a great many might be swayed by such sentiments, you still have the insane and fanatical to consider. What about those people who do not seek forgiveness and compassion? What of ones that enjoy the looting, raping, and pillaging. They revel in the carnage. I think even the most saintly of Eli's followers would agree that these souls would not only be beyond salvation, but also exceedingly dangerous?"

"That makes sense" Xena said.

"Yet, if they are cornered by such a beast, husbands would be forced to watch their wives butchered. Children are raped, murdered, or sold into slavery, and they are not permitted to do anything about it?" He fixed them all with a knowing look. "Tell me of one mother or father that could sit idly by and willingly allow their child to be condemned to a fate worse than death?"

"Yet," Mystros continued. "There before them is an evil that must be stopped, but cannot be stopped because the only actions that would stop it go against the very foundation of the belief system."

Alexander let a low whistle escape his lips.

"Now that's deep," Xena commented.

"No it isn't," Mystros replied. "It's actually very simple and shallow. It's the simplest principles intertwined by complex contradictions. IF someone knocks me down, I stand up again. If they strike me down again, I get up again, if I can. It all sounds so simple and noble. However, this interpretation never asks what the person would do if they were forced to watch a loved one brutalized or murdered? It can't afford to."

"Now," Mystros smiled. "If one follows the Path of Love, then things are quite different."

"How so, if it's the same message?" Xena asked.

"Because it is based on a universal truth," Mystros replied with a smile. "Love is, without a doubt, the most powerful force in existence. It makes weak men strong and strong men gods. It has moved mountains, conquered demons both real and imagined. Taken and saved lives."

"It's the taking part that I have a problem with, Mystros," Eve interjected.

"As well you should," He replied simply. He looked at the others earnestly. "The Way of Love teaches the same principles as the Path of Peace, with one crucial exception: It allows for the defense of one's loved ones."

He looked knowingly in Xena's eyes and smiled. "You were prepared to sacrifice yourself in the defense of your daughter, were you not?"

At this question, Xena didn't hesitate. "I was."

"You would have torn Olympus down to the foundations, killed every single God in order to protect the ones you loved, yes?"

"Without hesitation," Xena replied.

"Then you walked the Way of Love, my dear Xena." Mystros smiled. "In fact, you are still on that path, even as we speak."

"But Gabrielle followed the Way of Love, and she was not permitted to fight?" Xena countered, feeling that she had caught the demon.

Mystros merely smiled. "No, she did not. She was walking the Path of Peace, but it had been explained to her in a way similar to the Way of Love, and she was able to deduce subtler aspects of it. That was when she began walking that very fine line. She could distract and confuse, but isn't that a form of attack? She could order the troops into battle, but not raise a weapon? What is the difference between the general in the rear, and the troops on the field?"

Alexander and Xena shrugged, and Mystros's smile widened.

"In one word: Proximity." He chuckled. "She skirted that line for a long time before she was finally snapped back to where she was supposed to be. Until she truly embraced the Way of the Warrior, then, and only then, were her feet firmly planted on the proper path."

"But Gabrielle – my mom, went berserk when I was hurt," Xena countered. "She didn't just kill those soldiers, she was wild and brutal. It was as if she had lost her mind?"

"In the desert, a man dying of thirst will gorge himself upon water when he finds it, will he not?" Mystros replied. "It was the same with Gabrielle. She witnessed death and injury that she could have prevented, if she had acted, yet she made a conscious effort to restrain herself. Your injury was the final event that burst the dam, so to speak. It took a little while for the torrent to subside, and unfortunately, those poor Roman soldiers paid the price?"

"I'll say," Xena muttered.

"The thing is," Mystros continued. "Once her balance was returned, she did not resort to violence all of the time, did she?"

Xena shook her head.

Mystros smiled. "She found her path on the Way of Love, and has followed it, I suspect, to this day?"

Xena smiled as some of her fondest childhood memories came to her mind. She nodded.

Mystros smiled as well. "A gem cannot have only one facet and truly shine."

He glanced ahead at the other members of the party, moving together in a small clot ahead of them. "The Way of Love embraces many different facets, my friends. Those ahead of us are the messengers. They follow a Path of Knowledge, while I, in my own small way, follow the Path of the Healer, and the three of you, and your parents, follow the Path of the Warrior. Three different aspects following the Way of Love. The truth of the message is not in any single part, but in the whole."

"And this is where the two of us usually end up in a huge argument," Eve sighed. "And Mystros falls back on his 'child in danger' argument." Her voice faded as they abruptly bumped into the rest of the party.

Their levity faded into shock and horror as they crested the small rise and beheld the ruins of Tripolis smoldering in the shallow valley below. Thin trails of gray smoke still rose from the ashes of the village. Along the road that served as the main artery through the village, smaller blackened shapes could be seen, lying here and there, some of them still burning. The farm fields were hewn down and nothing, not even carrion birds, could be seen moving. The entire valley was dead.

"By the Gods," Alexander breathed.

They found no survivors as they moved slowly through the ruins. The air was thick with the smells of burnt wood and bodies. Nothing larger than a cat moved through the rubble.

"What could have done this?" Alexander asked as he stared down at the charred remains of two bodies. The larger, blackened mass curled over the smaller, now melted together in a sickening embrace.

Even with her knowledge and training from her previous life to draw on, Xena was hard pressed to remain detached in the face of such absolute destruction. She felt the gorge rise in her and had to force herself to remain calm.

When she looked back at Mystros, a chill ran up her spine.

He stood in the center of the holocaust, his dark eyes taking it in with an almost clinical expression on his face. There was something that was akin to curiosity, not outrage, in his eyes.

"Xe?" Alexander's voice broke through her shock.

She looked up at him, pale faced and numb with shock as he forced himself to remain detached from the nightmare. "I've looked about, and I couldn't find a single Amazon body among the dead. Granted, there isn't much left to be sure, but the Amazons never made it here to help in the defense. That means either they don't know about this, or?" he stopped when he saw the look in Xena's eyes.

"Aunt Alia," Xena whispered. She looked down the ruined street to her daughter, who was speaking quietly with Mystros.

"Eve!" She called. "Get the rest of these people out of here! Alex and I need to check on something!"

"No," Mystros replied. He looked over at the six remaining followers of Eli. "Find the nearest village and take shelter there. We are going with them."

They moved through the dense forest as quickly as the foliage would permit. Xena's eyes constantly scanned the trees above, hoping for some sign of the Amazons, but she found nothing. The wood was completely silent, as if the forest creatures were afraid to be heard.

"We should have been challenged by now," she said. She pause din a small clearing and looked about. Then she raised her hands and clasped them over her head.

There was no response to her signal. Only silence, broken by the occasional creak of the trees was their response.

Then the odor reached their nostrils. More burning death.

"No," Xena sighed in despair. The four of them ran forward towards the village.

They came to a stunned stop when they entered the clearing.

Like Tripolis, the Amazon village was in ruins. The bodies of hundreds of Amazon warriors had been thrown into a pile and set alight. The ashes were still smoldering.

Weapons lay where they had been discarded. The huts were nothing more than ashen piles of charred timbers. Tatters of banners hung limp in the still air.

As they moved around the mountain of corpses, a single figure came into view, tied to a single timber, its hands bound at the wrists.

"Alia!" Xena cried, running to the body.

She stopped before her hand touched the face of the person.

Alia hung limp, her lower body awash in crimson from several cruel slashes across her middle.

Tears stung Xena's eyes as she reached up and gently raised the face of her adopted aunt. A soft moan escaped the Amazon's lips.

"She's alive!" Xena cried with a shrillness that surprised her.

Instantly, the others were at her side as she quickly severed the bonds holding the Amazon Queen.

"Gently, now," Mystros was saying. "Slow and gentle."

They carefully lay Alia on the ground, while Eve and Xena inspected her wounds.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Eve said as some of her old Roman training reasserted itself.

Alexander was rummaging through his small travel pack, looking for something to bandage the wounds.

"Wait," Mystros said quietly. He knelt down before the dying woman and looked at her carefully. Then he looked up at Eve. "Let me?"

Eve nodded and touched Xena on the shoulder.

"Let him work, mom," she said quietly.

Reluctantly, Xena stepped back, fighting to keep her outrage in check.

Her eyes wandered across the carnage.

Mystros let his hand fall on the stricken Amazon's forehead, and his other over her heart. Then he closed his eyes in concentration.

A golden corona of energy emanated from his hands and covered the body of the wounded woman. As Alexander watched, the grievous wounds began to close.

"Whoa," he gasped. Then he turned to his sister and saw her standing a few paces away.

"Sis?" he said, stepping towards her. "You gotta see this!"

When he looked at her face, he didn't see a distraught relative, concerned for a family member. Instead, he saw the experienced general, surveying the battlefield, analyzing everything around her.

"What's wrong with this?" she asked, as if to herself.

"What isn't wrong with this?" Alexander replied.

"No," Xena answered, looking back at the healer, kneeling over the prone figure. "What's wrong with this?" She gestured towards Mystros and her daughter.

Xena looked with disgust at the pile of corpses, smoldering before them. "They went out of their way to make certain that no one survived, both here and in Tripolis, and then they just leave her hanging here? Something's wrong with this."

Alexander looked about the ruined circle as dread began to creep up his spine.

"We're being watched, Alex," Xena whispered.

"Ah, shit," Alexander replied. His hand slowly released the catch on his sword sheath.

After several minutes, Mystros rose wearily and came over to them.

"She will survive," he sighed. "She is strong, that one." He smiled. "Even after what she witnessed here."

"Did she say anything?" Xena asked.

Mystros smiled. "She only said one word. Hope."

"Hope?" Alexander asked. Then he smiled. "Well, at least she's being positive?" His relieved smile faded when he saw his sisters dawning expression.

"Hope?" Xena breathed. Her fear solidified into certainty. "We have to get out of here, right now!"

Mystros looked confused. "She's still very weak. I don't understand why we need to be in such a hurry?"

"Now!" Xena hissed.

Quickly, they lashed together a crude stretcher and lay the semi conscious queen upon it. When they lifted it and turned to depart, their hearts sank.

Standing near the ruined entrance to the village was a single figure in a dark robe, flanked on either side by several similarly hooded figures.

Steely green eyes fixed on them with predatory intensity, and a cold smile played at her lips.

"Mom?" Alexander asked in surprise.

"Well," Hope smile widened. "Isn't this a nice little family reunion?"

"Hope," Xena growled, her fingers twitching over the chakram hanging at her hip.

Alexander looked back at Xena.

"That's not mom?" he asked.

Xena's pale blue eyes hardened as she stared at her opponent. "Eve, Mystros, get Alia out of here."

"Are we about to have one of dad's 'Springer Moments'?" Alexander asked.

"Absolutely," Xena drew her sword.

Alexander also drew his weapon.

Eve and Mystros turned to make for the opposite end of the circle, only to see dozens more of the robed figures appear from the woods.

"Uh, mom?" Eve asked as she drew her chobos out.

Hope frowned, looked at the elder woman and then at the young dark haired woman standing before her. Then her eyes widened in realization and she actually laughed.

"Xena?" she asked. "Oh, isn't this delicious!" Then her mirthful smile changed into a snarl. "You're like an insect that won't die!"

"I was thinking the same thing myself," Xena growled.

"Enough of this," Hope smiled again. "Give me the healer."

"And you'll let us live?" Xena finished in a mocking tone.

"No," Hope replied. "But I promise to kill you quickly."

"Oh," Alexander said. "Gee, that makes me feel so much better!"

"Who are you?" Hope asked, giving Alexander an annoyed look.

Alex looked sidelong to Xena. "Should I tell her?"

Xena shrugged. "Do you think it would matter?"

Hope raised her arms, and dozens of concealed weapons rose into view. Swords, daggers, pikes, hatchets, and dozens of other implements of war hovered in a circle, surrounding the party.

Alexander sighed. "No, not really."

Hope looked at him expectantly.

"Well, fine," he finally said. "As much as I hate to admit it, sis. I'm your baby brother." Then he finished softly. "There's one like her in every family."

Hope stared at him for a moment, and then laughed in amusement. Then she flicked her hand and the circle of weapons shot in towards them, stopping a few inches from their targets.

Alexander fell back on the ground in surprise.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" he protested loudly. "What's with all the anxiety here? Come on!"

"Give me the healer," Hope asked again.

"Wait," Mystros said, placing a hand on Xena's shoulder and stepping before her. He stared at the small woman before him and sighed. "If you let them go, I will come with you."

"You can't!" Eve cried.

"Please!" Mystros said sharply. He smiled at her. "This is the very essence of what we spoke about?"

Hope's smile widened. "At what point did you think you had a choice?"

"You can't go with her!" Xena hissed.

"I know," Mystros replied. "But I must try this."

He turned back to Hope. "What would you prefer? An unwilling prisoner or a willing ally?"

"I fear that she will have neither, Inures," a new voice called clearly from beyond the circle of priests.

Hope turned and spied a single figure, clad in fire blue robes, trimmed in red and silver.

"And just what are you supposed to be?" she asked. Her smile faded as she felt the power emanating from this new adversary.

Mystros stared out past the circle at the new figure.

"Rakshasa," he whispered.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Gabrielle followed after her husband as he moved through the house, gathering things for his journey.

"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked for the umpteenth time.

David wheeled about and fixed Gabriele with a knowing stare.

"Honey!" he blurted sharply. "I know a message when it thunks me over the damn head!"

He stepped over to the mantle and drew down his katana, half drawing the blade to ensure that it was still functional after years of rest.

"Something big has happened to them," he continued. "Big and bad! Alia wouldn't have sent the message if she wasn't desperate!"

He pushed past her towards the bedroom. "There could be very little time. If I leave now, Prospero could get me there in two days – three tops!"

He paused when he opened the large chest at the foot of their bed. He drew out several articles of clothing and began shrugging out of his own clothes.

He changed into a worn pair of denim pants that might at one time have been black, now faded to gray. An old leather belt, to which he affixed the buckler that held his katana, and lastly, his most prized possession. A worn, beaten old leather biker jacket of modern design. He shrugged the old garment over his shoulders and frowned.

"Damn," he said. "Most people bitch about things shrinking in storage? This feels big?"

Gabrielle chuckled in spite of herself. "You were a little heavier when you first came to me, David."

David grinned. "See, you have been good for me?"

Gabrielle smiled, and then her expression sobered. "You're sure about this?"

David fixed her with a knowing stare.

"Fine," Gabrielle held up her hands in submission. "Fine, fine." She moved to her dresser and began pulling out articles of her own. "Then saddle up Sapho and Prospero because I'm coming with you."

"Like hell," David countered. "The kids should be back in a couple of days. One of us should be here when they arrive?"

Gabrielle laughed and shook her head. "Nice try, love," she said. "But I can leave them a note. I'm coming with you. In for a penny, in for a pound, remember?"

David sighed. "After twenty-five years, you're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Gabrielle stuffed her extra clothing into her old small traveling bag and kissed him on the cheek.

"Nope." She said flatly. "I'll pack us some extra food for the trip."

"I should have kept my damned mouth shut," David grumbled once she was gone.

He rolled up a couple of the blankets and lashed the whole pack together.

"I heard that!" Gabrielle called from the other room.

Grumbling to himself, David marched out to the barn and began getting the horses ready.

Sapho raised her head in greeting when he entered. She was a chestnut brown mare, tall and proud, with eager brown eyes, and a nervous energy. She stamped impatiently when she saw David grabbing the saddles and other gear.

This got Prospero's attention. He had been munching on some oats contentedly, his dark black main hanging like a curtain along his strong, smooth neck.

He raised his head and fixed David with a knowing look.

When David led Sapho out of her stall, he nickered in protest.

"Hey there!" David replied. "You know the rules. Ladies first."

Prospero shook his head and waited, occasionally stamping his hoof as if to hurry his master along.

Like his owner, Prospero was large and powerful, dark as midnight, except for a single diamond patch of white on his nose and tufts of white fur at the base of his legs.

He jerked his head enthusiastically when David finally brought him out of his stall and began setting the gear on his back.

"What do you think, big guy?" David asked gently as he tightened the saddle into place.

"We got enough for one more trip?"

Prospero looked back at him as if to say "I don't know about you, but I do?"

Gabrielle smiled when she saw him leading the two animals out of the barn. Just in the act of preparing for a journey, she thought David looked twenty years younger.

She was mildy surprised at the ease with which he climbed aboard the big black charger.

He sat there, tall and proud, his hair shining like silver in the sunlight.

She smiled.

"What?" David asked, feeling his own grin pull at his lips.

Gabrielle blinked up at him. "Just admiring the view."

David reached down and adjusted his boot in the stirrup.

"Come on," he chuckled.

The two of them trotted out of the yard and down the main road leading into town.

As they passed the inn, Salius came out and began to smile broadly.

"Well!" he exclaimed. "There's a sight I haven't seen since I was a lad!"

"Sal," David replied. "If Xena and Alexander get back before us, tell them we're heading to Tripolis. We'll be back in a few days. Tell them to stay put!"

"As if they'd ever listen," Salius retorted.

David shrugged. "Just tell them. We'll send word if there's a problem."

Salius waved his hand in acknowledgement.

When they reached the top of the small hill, outside of the village, David suddenly reigned back on Prospero and turned to look back down at the peaceful valley.

As he looked at the small cluster of stone structures, dotted here and there with golden thatched roofs, the image changed suddenly.

He realized that he was standing in the same spot he would occupy in the future, looking down at a series of half unburied foundations ruined, age worn stones all cordoned off by long yellow ropes and dotted with tiny orange flags. He sighed.

The image flashed again. This time, he saw the village in ruins, smoke rising from the charred remains of those golden roofs, and bits of broken stone lying scattered in the dark grasses, like a large vase that had fallen and shattered upon stone.

He caught his breath in surprise. Just as quickly, the image was gone and he once again beheld the tranquil sight of his home.

"Hey?" Gabrielle asked gently. "You okay?"

David forced a sudden knot of unease back down. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

He turned Prospero back and the two of them headed down the well worn road.

Nothing moved, not even the air. Hope looked from her quarry to the stranger in the blue robes and back again.

Xena edged forward, ready to attack, while Eve and Alexander tensed, prepared to grab the stretcher and bolt with Alia in tow.

Mystros's hand gently clasped Xena's forearm.

"Wait for it," he whispered.

Hope looked at the newcomer, a strangely curious expression on her face. This man seemed so calm, so self assured that she actually found it amusing.

The Rakshasa ignored her completely, his flinty eyes coming to rest on Mystros. A gentle smile touched his lips.

"Enough of this, Inures," he said in an almost fatherly tone. "It's time to come home."

"And what are you supposed to be?" Hope asked impatiently.

The stranger smiled patiently. "I have no quarrel with you, child."

Hope blinked in surprise and then several of the weapons pointed at her prey turned and pointed at the Rakshasa.

To this, the Rakshasa merely raise an amused eyebrow.

"Do you intend to fight me, child?" he asked in that slow, deliberate baritone. "Even kill me?"

"Here it comes," Mystros whispered. "Be ready. Trust nothing you see." Then the healer simply closed his eyes, frowning in concentration.

There was a rippling sensation and then the Rakshasa vanished. Hope frowned, her eyes darting back and forth, seeking this new adversary. He emerged from behind a nearby tree, his hands tented in the sleeves of his robe.

"Your greatest weakness," he said amicably. "Is your impatience."

Suddenly, he also stepped out from behind another nearby bush, that same, amicable smile on his face as he stared at the first Rakshasa.

"It counters your greatest strength," he continued. "You're raw power."

"Still," A third figure stepped into view. "The primary issue is not your power, or lack of patience."

Then a fourth appeared off to the other side.

"It seems, to me, to be this unquenchable desire to gloat over your potential victims."

Then a fifth figure.

"While, I myself, can appreciate the need to drive home a point, especially when victory is all but assured."

And a sixth came strolling forward, materializing out of thin air.

"It is usually most beneficial when you truly understand your opponent, and can anticipate any possible defensive stratagems."

And seventh.

"Overconfidence in one's abilities, has been the downfall of many more powerful than you, child."

Hope, the priests, and Xena and her party watched this with growing fascination and confusion. The seven Rakshasa each moved independently, fixing Hope with that soft, interminable smile.

"In allowing yourself to be so assured," One of them began. "You have granted your opponent the opportunity to prepare a defense."

"And thereby, shift the balance out of your favor." Another one finished.

Hope's gaze frosted over with anger. She waved her hand in the direction of the six figures. Weapons whistled through the air at their targets, passed through them, and vanished in a flash of fire.

"Pointedly crude and useless, child," One of the Rakshasa said. "You have the delicacy of a raging bull."

Another of the Rakshasa smiled as he surveyed the ring of priests surrounding Xena and her friends.

"You have followers, yes," he smiled. "But what good are followers, if they cannot follow?"

Cries of sudden panic burst from some of the priests as a subtle crunching noise was heard. As each of them looked down they beheld their feet taking root, like trees, or going the color of hard, immovable stone.

Hope looked about in rising anger. Her cold eyes returned to her opponent, as if they would burn him where he stood – all seven of him.

"Clever," she nodded, a wicked smile curling on her lips.

"But for you," One of the Rakshasa said. "Something a bit less subtle will be required."

Hope raised her arms, her hands wreathed in fire. She stretched her hands out, and a line of flame lashed out towards the nearest target, passed through it and exploded, obliterating the figure.

"One down," she growled. "Five to go."

"Boldly spoken," the Rakshasa replied. Then dozens of copies flashed into existence in a matter of a few seconds, here and there, strolling about, and all eyes locked on the young blonde girl.

Mystros let out a sudden cry of release, and pounded the end of his walking stick against the earth.

The ground rippled outward, like water, and the shock wave sent everyone sprawling to the earth.

"Quickly!" Mystros cried out.

Xena, Mystros, Eve and Alexander all bolted for the nearby trees. Alexander and Eve carried the stretcher, while Xena followed behind, covering their desperate escape.

The illusory Rakshasa all vanished, leaving the original standing before a prone Hope. Her smile widened as she jumped to her feet and drew back, ready to deliver the killing blow.

Xena just reacted, hurtling the chakram. Hope saw the approaching weapon out of the corner of her eye, and at the last moment, turned and the bolt meant for the Rakshasa intercepted the weapon. There was a flash and a roar, and Xena felt something slam into her body, pounding her back to the ground. The world flashed once in her eyes and everything went dark.

Alia moaned quietly as she bounced on the stretcher despite Eve and Alexander's attempt to measure speed with care.

Once they were clear of the fray, they slowed to a halt. Only then, did Alexander realize, with horror, that they were short one member.

"Where's Xena?" He asked. His eyes gazed expectantly back down the rough path they had followed.

Mystros only offered a pained look in response.

"Oh hell no," Alexander said, his gaze darkening.

"Alexander, wait!" Eve quickly stepped in front of him. "I'm sure she's okay. One thing about my mom – your sister," she smiled. "Is that she knows how to take care of herself. Right now, we need to get Alia somewhere safe, away from Hope and the Rakshasa, and whoever else is after us."

She placed a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder. "We need your help, Alexander." She finished gently.

Clearly torn between his loyalty to his family and his desire to do the right thing, Alexander finally nodded and sighed. "Okay. Lets get a little more distance between us and them, then."

Gently, the lifted Alia's stretcher and resumed their march.

Mystros constantly looked behind them, as if hoping to see their missing companion come jogging up behind or dreading that their unearthly hunters might do the same. He sighed.

"I am sorry," he finally admitted, looking at Alexander. "I should have done more."

Even at the odd angle, he saw the pained expression on the young mans face.

"I should have grabbed hold of her, or,"

"She'd likely have broken your arm," Alexander admitted. His torment was a palpable sensation in the air. "You did what you could."

They had not traveled more than a couple of hours when they heard a sound that filled them with fear. Horses approaching from ahead of them. The rhythmic falls of the hooves rolling like distant thunder.

Alexander considered for a moment. "Only two of them," he said, his expression darkening. "We can take them before they know what hit them."

"Let's get off the road," Eve agreed.

They lifted Alia up into concealment on a small rise and then hid among the bushes.

The approaching hooves rose in volume, and then two riders came into view.

As Eve looked down at them, recognition set in almost at once and she smiled.

She and Alexander stood up at the same time.

"Gabrielle?" Eve called out.

"Dad!" Alexander cried at the same time.

David and Gabrielle halted and looked up at the rise.

"Alex!" David sighed in relief. He jumped from the horse and embraced his son.

Gabrielle was a little slower to dismount, her eyes locked on the younger woman standing above her.

"Eve," She breathed. Then she smiled and also dismounted, embracing the younger woman. "By the Gods! Look at you!"

David looked over at the other man, slowly emerging from concealment.

"And who is this?" he asked.

Alexander made the introductions and then Gabrielle knelt alongside the stricken Alia.

"Well?" David asked after a few minutes.

Gabrielle sighed. "She's bad. We need to get her somewhere safe."

"I fear nowhere is safe for you as long as you are in my company," Mystros sighed. He suddenly looked at Eve.

"I should go away for a while," he offered. "This is all being visited upon you because of me. If I am gone, perhaps the Rakshasa and the others will not trouble you?"

"Don't even say that!" Eve shot back.

"Gabrielle," A week voice said. Gabrielle looked down and saw Alia's eyes open, looking up at her.

"Quiet now," Gabrielle said gently, but Alia managed to raise a hand and pull the older woman closer, whispering in her ear.

After a few moments, Alias arm slid from behind Gabrielle's neck and the Amazon queen lay staring up into the trees, the light gone from her eyes.

When Gabrielle looked up, her face was pale from growing horror and tears stung her eyes.

"She," Gabrielle choked suddenly.

David was at her side instantly. He smiled sadly and closed Alia's eyes.

"Hope's back," Gabrielle whispered in dread.

David wrapped his arm about her shoulders. "Did she say anything else?"

Gabrielle nodded. "She said, the circle is closing."

"The circle is closing?" Alexander repeated. "What does that mean?"

"Why don't you bring me up to speed," David replied.

Quickly, Alexander filled his parents in on the event leading up to their meeting, including the disappearance of his sister.

Gabrielle and Eve watched as David's gaze went from concern to one of determined anxiety.

"David?" Gabrielle asked.

"We'll bury Alia here," David said quickly. "Then the rest of you, head back towards home."

Then he looked at Gabrielle with a fire that she had not seen for many years.

"I'm going to go find our daughter."

"I'm coming with you," Alexander volunteered.

David shook his head. "I need you to keep an eye on them and make sure they get home safely. I got this."

"You sure?" Alexander asked.

David fixed his son with a dark stare, which was all Alexander needed. He raised his hands in surrender and nodded.

"Alright," he acknowledged. "I'll see you at home."

"Two days," David continued. He handed Prospero's reigns to his son "If we don't make it back by then, get out of dodge, got it?"

"How?" Gabrielle began. Then she smiled knowingly. "Never mind. You'll find us."

The first thing she realized, as consciousness slowly returned, was that she wasn't dead. No one can be dead and have the pounding headache she was feeling.

Xena's eyes fluttered open and she saw the thick branches of trees swaying above her in the breeze. Sunlight sparkled in her eyes. She winced and a soft groan escaped her lips.

She looked to one side and saw the form of the Rakshasa, kneeling upon a small, rectangular carpet, his body facing east, his head nearly touching the soft grass.

His fire blue robes gleamed in the sunlight seeming to cover him in a rippling corona of energy.

Instantly, the headache was replaced by an adrenaline surge. She instructively reached for her weapons as she jumped to her feet, and was mildly surprised to discover that she still possessed them. Her sword rang free with a metallic note.

Instead of matching her quick move, the Rakshasa bowed his head slightly closer to the earth and then rose gracefully to his feet. He stooped and carefully lifted his small carpet from the ground, rolling it gently into a neat little pack.

Then he turned and smiled, nodding to her cordially.

The rolled carpet vanished in a soft flash and the Rakshasa folded his hands within the sleeves of his robe.

"Where are we?" Xena asked, her eyes glancing around at the unfamiliar clearing.

"Somewhere safe, for the present," The Rakshasa said gently. "I felt we should get away from the child of Dahok, lest she attempt to continue our little confrontation when she, too regained consciousness."

"Okay," Xena nodded.

"Also, I wished to speak with you, if that will be permitted?" he looked at the sword in her hand. "Did you save my life only because you feel you should have the right to take it?"

He stepped over to a fallen log and seated himself deliberately. After a few moments of watching Xena, he sighed. "If you intend to strike, then please, do so. Or, we can talk."

"What do we have to talk about?" Xena asked.

"A great deal," The Rakshasa replied easily. "Please?" he asked again, indicating Xena's drawn weapon. "I have done no harm to you, or any that you love."

Xena considered that for a moment and slowly sheathed her weapon. "No, I guess you haven't.  
The Rakshasa gave a subtle nod and watched her expectantly.

"Then why are you here?" Xena asked.

"I am here to return that which does not belong on your plane of existence," The Rakshasa said evenly.

"You mean Mystros," Xena replied.

"Inures," The Rakshasa corrected her. "He is Inures, Son of Indrajed, whatever he chooses to call himself. He does not belong among you."

"Even if he has changed?" Xena asked.

At this, the Rakshasa gave a little grunt. His smile became something more sympathetic then humorous.

"It is the age old question," he said. "Can any creature, born unto an element of evil, not seek redemption?"

"You don't think they can," Xena replied.

"I know it to be a fact." The Rakshasa replied. "To change in such away is to remove the very purpose for which we were created. The universe does not allow for this."

"At all?" Xena asked.

"At all." The Rakshasa repeated emphatically. "The Divine Oma allows for replacement, for we are the tools of the Devine. Sometimes those tools need to be replaced, yes, but our function – our purpose – is unchangeable."

The Rakshasa looked again at Xena's weapon.

Reluctantly, Xena sheathed her sword, though she did not sit when her host gestured her to do so.

"Inures is the Son of Indrajed," The Rakshasa explained. "As such, he inherited all of the desires of his father. It is the way of things."

"He was destined to take Indrajeds place," Xena nodded.

"He has taken Indrajeds place, child," The Rakshasa replied. "Along with all of his powers, though he does not yet realize it in truth. As such, he has also inherited the ancient conflict between himself and the Avatar of Oma. I have no doubt that he could manifest himself in his fathers' image if it served his purposes. At present, it does not."

"How so?"

"Consider the benefits of his current course of action," The Rakshasa explained. "At the moment of his father's death, he became his father. Yet, he used his position and power to pursue that which his father failed to acquire, and in so doing placed himself in the perfect position to gain that which his father was unable to achieve."

Xena felt a small knot of dread begin to churn in her belly.

She was about to ask another question when the Rakshasa held up a hand to forestall her, his eyes focused on the forest off to his right.

"Someone approaches," he whispered. "Please, remain silent and they will pass."

As they watched, two of Hope's acolytes came into view, their eyes scanning the surroundings, obviously searching for something, or someone. Their pale eyes turned and stared straight at Xena and her strange companion, looking right through them, completely oblivious to their presence.

Something cracked off to the side of the interlopers, and they turned, their bodies tense for attack.

They edged forward.

"We have you now, pretty," one of them chuckled.

In a sudden flurry of movement, a figure slipped up between them. There was a silver flash of a sword and the first went down without as much as a breath. The second turned and impaled himself on the curved blade. His pale eyes went wide before the blade ripped upward.

The priest fell in a heap.

Xena saw the long silver hair and the battered old leather. She would have cried out in relief if the Rakshasa had not bade her to be silent, pressing two fingers gently to her lips.

David stood still, breathing hard.

"Not as spry as I used to be," he muttered. Then he turned and looked straight at Xena and her host – and actually saw them.

He faced the robed man, smiling.

"Hi there," he growled. "I came for my daughter."

At this, Xena saw the Rakshasa smile in appreciation.

"I suggest you back off, pal," David growled.

The Rakshasa let his hands rise in surrender and he nodded. "Most impressive. Few are those who can see beyond my illusions."

The man stepped a few paces away and reseated himself on the log.

"Smartest thing you ever did," David nodded. He gestured to Xena. "Come on honey, let's get out of here."

"I'm curious, Master?" The Rakshasa asked suddenly. "How is it that an infidel can see through my illusion?"

"Trade secret," David replied shortly as Xena stepped over to him.

"Indeed," the Rakshasa nodded again.

"Dad, wait," Xena said quickly. "You need to hear what he has to say."

David frowned. "And just what do we need Tony the Tiger for?"

At the word 'Tiger', the Rakshasa's eyebrow rose in surprise while Xena only offered a frown of confusion.

"You see past all illusions, Master?" the Rakshasa asked.

"Most of them," David replied. "More so now than in the past."

At this, the Rakshasa's expression became sympathetic – almost regretful. "I understand."

Xena looked between her father and the robed figure seated on the log.

"Well, I don't," she said at last. She looked up at her father. "What are you seeing that I'm not seeing?"

"He is seeing my true form, Xena," The Rakshasa replied evenly, and that smile reappeared.

"Show her," David ordered.

The figure on the log seemed to shimmer, rippling like a reflection in a stream.

Xena's mouth dropped open in astonishment as the figure of the handsome young man was replaced by something much more terrifying.

Thick fur appeared, alternating in slashes of brilliant orange and black.

The hands fattened and became almost catlike, with long, sharp claws. The face seemed to stretch and widen, assuming more feline features, covered with the same brilliant orange and black, except for the soft white beneath the cat like muzzle. The clear dark eyes became a soft, gentle golden color.

The humanoid figure rose and reached upward in a catlike stretch. Something like a deep rumbling purr emanated from his throat, and he looked again at David.

It seemed that he was about to say more, but he paused. Instead, he simply nodded. "You know of my kind?"

"I've heard a few things," David replied. "Though I've never seen one of you before."

The Rakshasa nodded his head.

"So," David continued. "Aside from your half sister showing up again, what the hell is happening?"

As Xena quickly recapped her side of events, David's eyes rolled skyward.

"Great Goddess protect us," he moaned. "This is the man I left with them?"

"I fear it is, Master," the Rakshasa replied.

"We have another problem," Xena added quickly. "Eve is in love with Mystros –I mean Inures."

"Scuse me?" David asked, while at the same time, the Rakshasa asked. "What?"

Xena looked at the two of them. "My daughter is in love with Inures."

"Í fear Inures has worked many things to his advantage," The Rakshasa said. "Including bringing you into conflict with your own blood."

"I can handle Eve," Xena replied. "Despite all this," she indicated her reincarnated self, "I am still her mother. She'll listen to me."

"For her sake," the Rakshasa said. "I hope you are correct."

"How far ahead are they?" Xena asked David.

David considered for a moment. "They'll have about a day on us when they get home."

"Think mom can handle him?" Xena pressed nervously.

"I'm not worried about that," David replied. "If Inures is truly trying to bring about the downfall of the Elijans, he's in the perfect place to do it, and, he won't want to stay hidden from Hope for very long. He'll be looking to stir the pot as much as he can before going over to her. The thing that I'm worried about is that he'll leave a trail for Hope to follow, right back home."

"You think he is seeking some form of alliance with Dahok?" The Rakshasa asked.

"I'd bet on it," David replied. "The old pantheons are either dead or disbanded. The old 'borders', if you will, no longer apply. An alliance would accomplish two things. First, it would give Dahok a foothold on the gods of India and might even aid in overthrowing them. Second, it guarantees that Inures will get to stick around, at least in the short term."

"So he's looking to cover his own back," Xena nodded.

"I think he's looking at surviving," David replied. "At any cost."

"And the Child of Dahok?" The Rakshasa asked. "What of her?"

"She's the go between," Xena answered after a moment. "She's here to make sure Inures is sincere. If she can get a little revenge along the way, so much the better, and Inures would be more than willing to help, since this would be right up his alley."

"Uh people," David said as he moved away. "We have a psycho-masochistic demon paired up with the daughter of hell, all very close to our family. Lets walk and talk at the same time, okay?"

As they moved quickly down the path, Xena moved closer to the Rakshasa.

"You were going to say something to my father, when you realized that he could see past your illusion of –" she stopped. "Well, when you looked like one of us. What were you going to say?"

The Rakshasa looked down at her and something like a soft growl issued from his throat.

"Very few people can see so clearly, except at certain times in their cycle of life," he explained. "Your father can see me because, at this time, his cycle may be drawing to a close."

Xena's eyes widened and she looked at her father, moving quickly ahead of them. In spite of his advancing years, he still moved with fluidity and grace of men twenty years his junior.

"Drawing to a close," Xena repeated. "You mean he's going to die."

"All mortals die, Mistress Xena," The Rakshasa replied gently. "It is the way of the Great Cycle."

Something settled in Xena's belly like a dull weight. Her eyes followed the man walking before her, tall, proud, no sign of infirmity. David was a picture of health.

She shook the idea away. The very thought was ridiculous.

"He's not going to die," she replied to the Rakshasa. "My father is a very powerful priest, that's why he could see you."

The Rakshasa's expression did not change.

"Of course," he answered easily. "That must be it."

Something in the mute tone of the Rakshasa's reply did nothing to alleviate the knot in her belly.

"That has to be it!" Xena forced the thought through her mind, obliterating all the others. "Yes, that must be it."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Several of the residents of Poditea emerged from their homes to view the worn group of travelers moving through the town.

At the head of the group rode Gabrielle and Alexander, with Mystros and Eve seated behind them. They all looked worn and haggard after two days of hard riding.

Salius raised a hand in greeting as he watched Gabrielle's horse walk wearily past his inn.

When he saw the grim, determined look on their faces, his smile faded.

"Gabrielle?" he called to her. "Where's your David? Where's Xena?"

Before Gabrielle could answer, Alexander spoke quickly.

"They're on their way. Should be here some time tomorrow." Then he put his hand on his mother's arm. "They'll be here tomorrow." He repeated firmly.

Gabrielle's heart felt like a dead weight in her chest as they rounded the gentler curve in the road and entered the property of their farm. When she saw the house, it only made the ache more palpable.

Mystros, seeming to sense her angst smiled sympathetically.

When they had unpacked the horses and the others were inside the house, cleaning the grime from their skin, Gabrielle stood on the porch, her eyes fixed on the road beyond the fence.

"You have a lovely home, here, Gabrielle," Mystros said gently from behind her. His voice startled her out of her revere and she turned quickly, the dull ache in her heart momentarily replaced by a sudden hammering.

"Forgive me," Mystros smiled apologetically. "I did not wish to disturb you. Are you alright?"

Gabrielle smiled softly and turned back to watch the road. "I will be. Once my family is reunited."

"I understand," Mystros replied, but there was a coldness to his voice that Gabrielle couldn't remember hearing before.

When she looked at him, she saw the same gentle look, the same understanding smile, and yet, something in his eyes did not match his calm expression. There was a glint in his eyes that made her suddenly uneasy.

David drew the circle in the dirt with the end of his sword sheath and closed his eyes, muttering to himself.

Once his preparations were complete, he settled himself into a cross legged position and sighed heavily.

"I haven't tried to do this for a lotta years, so bear with me, okay?"

The Rakshasa twitched the whiskers on either side of his nose curiously.

"And what are you attempting, Master?" he asked.

"I'm going to try and send a message," David explained. "I need to warn Gabrielle about Inures and Hope."

"We can do that once we arrive," The Rakshasa countered.

"We haven't run into a single one of Hopes Hoodlums since I found you and my daughter," David said. "Do you really think they're still around? They're bee lining it to Poditea, which means they'll beat us there."

Dread settled in Xena's gut, forming a solid cold mass in the center of her being.

"Now, I don't know how long this will take, so please, don't bother me or touch me while I do this." David explained. "It could be quite dangerous for all of us if this spell is broken incorrectly, got it?"

Xena nodded, while the Rakshasa simply watched in fascination. David closed his eyes and slowed his breathing down as he attempted to find a feeling he hadn't experienced for many years.

Eventually, he felt the old twinges and then the gentle sensation of being drawn upward. In a moment, he was gone.

The Rakshasa looked at David with wonder.

"I did not know that the Greeks had advanced so far on the path of enlightenment?" he said.

"My dad isn't Greek," Xena replied with a faint, proud smile.

"Gaul then? Germanian? He does not bear the countenance of the Asian?" The Rakshasa asked, frowning.

"He called himself an American," Xena said.

"Amurrrrrrican?" The word came out with a feline purr. "I do not know that land?"

Xena looked up and pointed to the West. "Go that way till you hit water, then keep going till you hit land again. That's where he's from."

"From beyond the great water?" The Rakshasa mused. "Fascinating."

Gabrielle studied Mystros's face, trying to discern the incongruous look in his eyes when she felt a soft, gentle, and familiar hand fall on her shoulder.

"Hey kiddo," David's voice echoed in her ear. "How you holding up?"

She smiled and her hand absently drifted up to her shoulder. She could almost feel the fingers resting there; feel his soft breath against her neck. A flick of her eyes revealed that she could see him, shimmering just behind her.

"I'm fine," she whispered.

Mystros nodded, thinking that she was speaking to him.

"I'm sure David and your daughter are well," Mystros reassured her.

Gabrielle blinked and then nodded, forcing a smile.

"Think, honey," David whispered. "Don't talk." She could feel him grinning. "And don't think that…I'm in no position. Once we get this settled and get to Carthidge for that little anniversary we planned, you can think that way all you like."

Her smile widened.

"Now, I need you to listen carefully," David continued. "We're coming to you as fast as we can, but I'm afraid that Hope is going to get to you first."

"How does she know where to go?" Gabrielle asked.

"Inures is broadcasting like a damned beacon," David replied. "He was doing it when I popped in."

Gabrielle looked at Mystros, standing next to her, staring out at the road. His hopeful, expectant look on his face now carried a much more sinister meaning.

"He can't mean to," she thought. "Perhaps he can't help it? Perhaps that's why he's been pursued this whole time?"

"Wrong," David replied. "He's doing it on purpose. He wants Hope to find him. He needs Hope to find him so he can sign on with the Dark Side."

"But-" Gabrielle began.

"You don't have the son of Indrajed at our home, sweetie," David interrupted her. "He IS Indrajed! He's doing everything that his predecessor did before, only he's managed to insinuate himself among us and he's reaping the rewards. He thrives on the torture and torment of others! Think about everything he's already done?"

"He tried to save Alia," Gabrielle countered. "He saved Xena and Alexander."

"And he's been prodding everyone ever since, I bet. Asking harmless questions that make you think about the things that cause pain and regret, right?" David replied. "Always being so understanding and sympathetic, because it keeps your minds on the fact that we got split up! That there's a chance Xena or I could be dead!"

The words hit her like a roundhouse punch and her eyes snapped up to look at Mystros again, and found him looking at her with a combination of curiosity and amusement.

"He's a torment junkie, honey," David finished. "Every time he can goose your pain a little more, it's like he's getting a fix!"

It took a moment for Gabrielle to realize that Mystros wasn't actually looking at her. He was, in fact, looking past her to where David stood at her shoulder, and was actually seeing him!"

At the same time, she felt David's fingers squeeze a little tighter upon her shoulder.

"Oh shit," he whispered.

Mystros raised an inquisitive eyebrow at that last statement and then he smiled.

"Oh, I'm afraid it is true, my dear. Though some of the references your husband makes are unclear to me," he said with that same soft calm. "I have made a few arrangements to secure my place, and while doing so, arranged to experience that which my father never could. When the idea was presented to me to aid in the vengeance of my new partner, how could I refuse that?" His eyes shifted again and his smile grew.

"The torment of the heart that I have experienced in your company over these past few days has been intoxicating," he sighed. Then he nodded, looking past Gabrielle and the ethereal David. "Thank you."

Gabrielle stiffened in horror when a voice spoke behind her, smooth and slightly husky.

"Hello, Mother."

Gabrielle turned and looked into a mirror through time as she saw the younger countenance of her own features. Only the green of Hopes eyes betrayed her true nature. They were as cold as frozen seawater and devoid of any conscience. She smiled and looked at Mystros.

"Have you had enough of this?" she asked, flicking a finger in Gabrielle's direction.

Mystros sighed. "As intoxicating as this all is, I have had enough of it, yes."

"Good," Hope smiled. Her eyes lost focus for just a moment and then returned. At the same time, the myriad of priests concealed around the village of Poditea began advancing.

They moved through the trees, and into the village, burning, killing, maiming, and razing the village to the ground building by building.

Terrified villagers fled in panic and found any escape blocked. Men, women, and children screamed in terror as smoke began to rise from the first of the fires that had been set.

Gabrielle looked back towards her home village in horror, and then at Mystros. He had a strange, almost enraptured expression on his face. She looked back at Hope and saw a satisfied smile on her face as well.

She could feel David, seething with fury as he witnessed all this.

Then Eve and Alexander came running out of the house, drawn by the terrible noise.

The looked towards the village and then back at Gabrielle, just in time to see Hope before a wave of energy flung them across the yard and against the doors of the barn. Both figures slumped to the ground, unconscious.

David's seething fury became a full blown rage.

"Little girl," He growled. "You are writing a check your body can't cash!"

Hope waved a dismissive hand and David vanished with a cry.

David jolted to his feet as if he had been struck. He stumbled and fell back to the ground with a grunt.

"Dad!" Xena was at his side instantly.

When he looked at them, his eyes were haunted.

"They've got our family," David whispered, his haunted look changing to an expression of outrage.

He got to his feet, still giddy from the forced return and began stumbling in the direction of home as fast as his wobbly legs would carry him. He was muttering angrily to himself.

Xena and the Rakshasa moved to follow him.

"Dad"! Xena called after him. "Dad, wait!"

She caught up to him and looked into his eyes.

"They're burning Poditea, honey," he said. "Not just our home. Hope's taking out the whole village."

As much as this news filled her with horror, Xena forced the warrior she had been to the front and placed her hands against her father's chest.

"Okay," she said calmly. "There's nothing we can do about it now, and we won't be able to get there in time to stop it, right?"

David looked at his daughter in surprise and saw the seasoned warrior in the eyes of his child.

"Now," Xena continued. "I learned a few things about Hope recently, which tells me we have some time, and Gabrielle can take care of herself."

It was a testament to how dire the circumstances actually were for Xena to refer to her mother as 'Gabrielle', reverting back to a previous time, a previous life. David could not remember ever hearing that from her before.

Xena looked into her fathers eyes a moment longer and then looked back at the Rakshasa.

"We're not going to be able to do much against Hope's little army of priests," she said. "We could use your help?"

"You already have that, Mistress," The Rakshasa replied, his gold/green eyes burning with feline anger. "The Priests of Dahok will not be an obstacle for you, that much I can promise."

The remains of Poditea were still smoking the next afternoon when the three of them crested the hill that looked down upon that once tranquil valley.

Though Xena had seen this kind of destruction before and her father had recently seen the ruins of Tripolis, the sight of the carnage still turned the blood in their veins to ice.

Robed figures could be seen moving from door to door, building to building in final 'mopping up' actions, as David named it. He drew the enchanted katana from its sheath and his dark eyes went a shade darker and the modern curses issued from his mouth in a series of hoarse whispers.

"Can you get us in there without us being seen?" Xena turned to their inhuman companion.

The Rakshasa nodded his feline head. "I doubt if the acolytes would even perceive us. Inures and Hope, however, may be another matter."

"That's fine," David growled. "I want them to know we're coming!"

"Dad," Xena said, recognizing the look in his eyes. She had seen that look in her previous life.

David said nothing as he studied the carnage below. Once again, the fates had conspired against him to destroy the life he had desired for himself. His world was crumbling before his eyes. Everything that he had grown to understand and love was being obliterated. The one thing the resonated in his heart at this particular moment was that in the previous two instances, he had been powerless to stop it.

First, his parents had been taken from him as a child. The result of a freak accident that had left him the only survivor of the family. The second had been his first wife, ravaged by cancer after only nine years. He had been forced to watch as she had faded away until she finally died.

After that, he had resigned himself to a life of relative solitude until a strange young bard had dropped into his life from the distant past. He had battled the forces of time itself to win Gabrielle, and they had built a long and prosperous life together. It had been a life beyond any hope he could have ever imagined. This time it had given him a quarter of his life and now, the universe was working against him again.

A deep sense of resentment and fury that he couldn't remember ever experiencing in the past began to boil molten in his heart. Instead of the blind rage that he expected, he felt his senses sharpening. He saw the entire scene with more clarity than he had ever seen anything else in his life.

Something like a growl issued from his throat, and Xena actually took a small step back from her father. This was something that she had never seen in anyone before. It was a perfect blending of hot anger with clarity and cold calculation, all in equal balance.

"Dad?" she asked, somehow afraid that her father was no longer with her.

David pointed to the forested area to the east of their home and south of the village proper.

"We'll head around that way," he said. "Come up to the fields by the pond on the east side of the house. There's no way we could make it through town the way those priests are moving about."

Xena looked down at the village and noted that their homestead was the only thing untouched by the ravages of Hopes priests. It lay, a single unblemished spot on the tapestry of destruction spread out before them.

"We find anyone not from the village between here and there, we don't ask questions," David continued. "We take them out!"

Xena blinked. Where was the calm man she had known all her life? Every lesson of compassion and understanding had seemed to suddenly vanish.

"Dad?" She asked again.

David began moving along their intended route, using the surrounding hills as cover.

"No one," he growled. "And I mean no one fucks with my family!"

Despite the surreptitious approach they had chosen, there was nothing subtle about the steady, relentless pace at which David covered the distance. He felt no need for secrecy.

He marched through the trees and descended a shallow culvert along a narrow stream bed. There he spied two of the robed figures lying in wait.

"Afternoon boys!" he said as he approached them. They raised their hands to strike, but the katana slashed across one and up the other, dropping them in a quick succession of lethal moves. David had marched past them before the second man had even fallen to the ground.

Xena saw this and caught her breath.

"Your father is right," the Rakshasa said calmly. "Inures will know of his approach despite anything I do. Your father's torment is as palpable to him as the falling rain."

Xena and the Rakshasa quickly caught up with him.

They were concealed in a low line of brush at the eastern edge of their property, near the small pond where Xena and David had spent many hours in conversation during her life.

"Dad!" Xena hissed. Her mind was still reeling with the cold brutality of her father's last actions.

He looked down at her.

"You need to stay calm," she pleaded. "Slow down, please!"

David's eyes flashed dark and foreboding for a moment, and then, much to her relief, she saw them soften, and some of the man she knew as her father returned.

He wrapped his arm about her and held her tightly for a moment.

"I love you, baby," he whispered fiercely. She held him tightly, feeling that knot of dread reform in her belly. "And I'm sorry."

Xena looked up at him and saw the soft light fade in his dark eyes once more. They became hard and pitiless.

"Sorry?" Xena stammered suddenly. "For what?"

David put his hand on her cheek. "Everything I ever taught you about how and when to fight. All the lessons about compassion and pity."

"I remember," Xena nodded, hoping the tears forming in her eyes would somehow coax the loving gentle man back.

"Don't ever forget them, baby," David said. "Even though I'm about to break every single one of those lessons now."

A sudden realization sank like a stone in Xena's gut. Her father was calm. He was completely calm, totally emotionless, absorbed in the calculated brutality he was about to initiate.

"You can't do this!" Xena hissed. "Not like this!"

Inures and at least a dozen of Hope's priests stepped out from beyond the house, all of them with eyes focused on their hiding place.

"Greetings, Master David!" Inures called cheerfully. "There is no need for you to remain hidden! We know precisely where you are!"

His words were filled with a dark confidence that seemed meant to fuel David's internal fire.

Inures seemed almost euphoric, like a drunken man at the height of his inebriation. As David watched this, a smile began to creep across his face. It was a not a smile of mirth, but of understanding.

Even Xena felt that old fury begin to rise within her, almost too fast for her to check it. It fell back into something more controlled when she saw her father's expression.

It happened so quickly that she couldn't be sure, but she suddenly felt the hairs stand up on her arm, as if static had begun to build, and she could swear that she had seen a tinge of red in her father's one good eye. Like a subtle glow that was gone before it had even registered in her mind.

David's lips began to move, mumbling something inaudible, but the sensation was palpable. It was like a soft breeze flowing towards them from all directions. David's eyes shone with something that Xena could not readily identify. Then she recognized it. Bright, youthful and alive, filled with passionate energy.

With the exception of the few times in her youth, when her father had walked with her through incomprehensible nightmares, she had never beheld the power he was rumored to possess. Now she was sensing it build within him to explosive levels.

"Stay behind me," David said, and he stood up, stepping forward with long, purposeful strides. When he spoke, the words came from the man who had abandoned the comforts of the twenty-first century, filled with the rebellious attitude that had fueled his existence.

"Junior!" he shouted at the demon. "You got a gallon of attitude in a one pint container, and you're spilling it in my yard!"

Inures frowned, as if the potency of the sensations he had been experiencing were suddenly being sapped.

David swung the katana in a few circles, as if warming up his limbs for the coming confrontation.

The priests advanced, some bearing weapons, other chanting incantations that would produce spells of devastating energy.

"That's right boys!" David shouted. "Pull it together! Let's see what you got!"

Several of the priests thrust their hand outward, sending a veritable wall of energy arcing towards him.

He made no move, no reaction at all, except to stretch out his hand to receive it.

The blue white bolts of lightning sizzled against his hand and body, wreathing about him in explosive arcs of fury and death.

"Dad!" Xena cried in horror. Then the firestorm faded, and David stood, hunched over, his leather coat smoking on his body. His long gray hair hanging down in ragged strings.

Suddenly he stood straight again with a loud roar and a fierce laugh issued from him.

"Yeah!" He shouted hoarsely. "That'll wake you up better than a double cappuccino!"

The first of the priests were nearly upon him.

The katana arced through the air, flashing silver fire in the sunlight and three of the priests fell twitching to the earth. David continued forward, the katana writhing like a thing alive in his hands. He was a juggernaut, always moving forward. His weapon arced and flashed smiting anything before him as he moved towards his home.

Several others thought better of attacking this man, and instead, turned and attacked Xena and the Rakshasa.

Xena's weapon joined in the melee of destruction her father was weaving, then there was another blinding flash of power, and five more of the priests fell dead where they stood.

Everyone stopped in that moment. A sudden silence fell upon the battle.

Standing in the center of a ring of fallen foes, stood David, his hand outstretched, his chest heaving from exertion. He lowered his hand and fixed his dark eyes on the startled Inures.

"Something you need to learn, Junior," he growled. "Never fuck with another man's family!"

Hope stood on the porch of the house and listened to the battle, her self assured smile fading as the cries of her own priests changed from confidence to terror.

She looked down at Gabrielle, Alexander, and Eve, bound and seated against the wall of the house.

Eve's expression was one of frightened concern, which Hope expected. However, the other two prisoners had expressions of confidence instead of fear.

She frowned in confusion.

Gabrielle saw this and her smile widened to one of pure defiance.

"One thing that your brothers found out a number of years ago," she said with a confidence she should not have had. "Never, never make my David angry."

As if to punctuate her words, the bodies of several of Hope's priests tumbled into view, motionless and smoldering.

Alexander managed to wince in sympathy. "Man," he muttered. "I thought it was bad when I got grounded."

Xena spun low and ducked a sweep from one of the priests. His sword changed its arc and whistled down at her. She parried the blow and slashed sideways, one, two, three times and watched her assailant fall before wheeling on the next one.

Then Inures was before her. She slashed out at him, only to have her weapon bounce off his hand.

"You're weapons have no effect upon me, here child," he smiled angrily.

"But mine will!" the Rakshasa bellowed. He rammed two priests against one another with a sickening crunch and charged.

Xena rolled to the side as the Tiger headed Rakshasa tackled Inures with an impact that would have jellied a mortal man. They landed several yards away leaving a furrow in the fertile earth.

David had time to smile at the hit.

"Urlacher, eat your heart out," he said and he faced the next opponent in turn, his katana slicing the blade of the priests sword off neatly, like a hot knife through butter.

The priest looked at the hilt in his hand, his pale eyes wide with surprise.

"That had to suck, didn't it?" David asked. Then he slashed cross wise and severed the shocked priests head from his shoulders.

The Rakshasa sank his claws into the flesh of Inures's physical form, holding the demon in check.

"Time to come home, Master," he said in a calm voice that belied the ferocity of their struggle.

Inures screamed in fury, fighting to tear himself from the claws of the Rakshasa, whatever the damage to his physical body.

Suddenly, orange fire lashed across the field and struck the Tiger headed creature in the chest, separating him from his quarry with a roar, and engulfing his fur and robes in a wave of orange death.

The Rakshasa let out an inhuman roar of agony and rolled desperately, his paw like hands swatting at the flames his rolling did not extinguish.

Inures got to his feet, still off balance and bleary from the superhuman impact.

Xena cleared her weapon from her latest opponent and joined David as he charged towards the stricken Son of Indrajed.

Xena got there first; her weapon rose and descended in a vicious downward chop.

Inures's hand rose and blocked the blade, the metal slamming into the flesh without so much as leaving a welt from the pressure.

"Your weapon can not harm me, Xena," He said with a cruel smile. Then his face went momentarily blank and his eyes went wide.

They drifted down and to the side of Xena and saw the long, curved silver blade protruding from his ribcage. He followed the blade up to the hands grasping the hilt and then to the satisfied, pitiless gaze of David.

All his inhuman strength seemed to flow from him, traveling up that conductor and into the foe that looked down at him.

"Mine will," David growled. Soft corona's of greenish blue energy, his energy. His dark power flowed into this strange man. The world went dark before he could so much as utter a breath.

Hope watched her latest ally slump to the ground, his energy and power fading from her perception. Her green eyes blazed and she roared with a voice no human could produce.

With a wave of her hand, David and Xena were flung half way across the yard, rolling in two heaps near the far fence.

Xena seemed to deal with the uncontrolled fall a little better than her father. She let the inertia carry her until she came up in a crouch and reclaimed her blade.

David rolled over a bit more slowly.

"Dad?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

Then she heard something that enthralled and frightened her at the same time.

David was chuckling in a way that told her he was actually enjoying himself.

"Oh yeah," he growled. His eyes rose to face the young, evil version of his wife, standing near the entrance of his home. He knew that the rest of his family was inside. They could be dead, or alive, he didn't know. That ambiguity fed his wrath.

"I haven't felt like this for years!" He finished. Then he turned his attention to Hope.

"Little girl," he said in a vice so menacing that Xena had never heard the like of it before. "I am gonna beat you like the stepchild you are!"

He got to his feet and began stalking forward.

The energies he hadn't called upon for decades came back to him with an effortlessness that he could never remember before. Whether it was the fury at the destruction of his home, or the imposing dread of the possibility that the rest of his family had joined the unfortunate victims of Poditea, or a combination of both, he didn't know. He didn't have time to consider it, really. The young lady was stalking towards him and he could see her energy building for another devastating assault.

"Let's get it on!" he challenged, the old school dialect returning from years past. He focused his own energies for a counter strike.

Xena followed after her father, her fear and fascination building in equal measure. She didn't remember ever seeing this kind of fury, this kind of power from her father in her entire life, though she had heard many of the tales, mostly from her mother, when she was growing up. Now she was seeing this display first hand and realized that the romantic tales told by her mother and father had been more than a little edited.

With a cry, Hope lashed out again with a brilliant burst of flame.

David's throaty growl also rose and he too, flung his hand out.

Xena blinked when the brilliant white blast of lightning intersected Hope's fiery attack. The energies crackled and thundered deafeningly.

While David's expression only added a subtle wince from the strain, Hope's expression changed to one of startled surprise. The energies died and silence fell on the field.

"Impressive," Hope said, stepping sideways away from the house, giving her some distance and room to operate.

"Thank your late lamented friend," David replied.

Hope's surprised expression melted into one of challenge. "I see."

Then she lifted her hands and fallen weapons from all over the stricken forms in the yard.

"How much power have you leached from him, I wonder?" Hope asked.

He felt his daughter turn and stand, with her back barely touching his.

"No," He said quickly. "When this starts, get inside and get your mom and brother."

"You can't handle this," Xena replied, her eyes watching the floating weapons as they rotated slowly in mid air.

"You'd be surprised at what I can handle right now," David said quickly. "I just need to close the distance, and then she can't use the ballistics."

Hope flicked her hands and the weapons shot in.

"Go!" David barked, and then he brought his weapon before him, his hands squeezing the hilt, his eyes closed and he breathed in. The world slowed.

Xena ran for the house, ducking and rolling as the weapons shot past her.

She hit the porch at a dead run and slid to a halt at the doorway.

When she turned to look back, she ducked as a blade impaled the wood where her head had been a moment before.

Her blue eyes went wide with wonder when she saw the other countless weapons bouncing off an invisible barrier that surrounded her father.

When the barrage was over, David leapt forward like a world class fencer, his steps a combination of shuffling, hopping advances that closed the distance between the two of them in a matter of moments.

A long, curved scimitar leapt up from the ground and into Hope's hand.

David lunged, the curved blade thrusting forward at Hope's chest.

Hope parried the attack easily and retreated a few steps, again, with a surprised expression on her face.

David swung the enchanted katana in several arcs, bringing the blade up along his right side, the edge curving down like a scorpion's stinger.

He felt rather than saw the weapon coming from behind, ducked and swung the blade on instinct. The silver blade struck the incoming dagger, knocking it away.

Then Hope struck again, her scimitar lashing in and out in a flurry of precise, well controlled movements.

In a momentary flash, his mind flashed back to a similar duel, less deadly, between himself and his good friend, Dusty. He could almost see his old friend from the future, standing in the white jacket and opaque fencing mask. His eyes flicked to the doorway and he saw Gabrielle, Alexander, and Eve. All of them worn and bruised, but healthy.

His grin widened in relief for a moment and then he focused again on his opponent.

He parried two more attacks from this evil twin of his wife.

"No," she said. "I didn't kill them. Not yet. I want them to see you die first."

"Dream on, little girl," David replied automatically. The two of them closed again, and this time the weapons threw off sparks at the brutal contact. Then he felt something slice against his right arm. They separated and he saw red on the cloth of his shoulder, spreading on either side of a slash in the shirt. Again, the same wound he had inadvertently received from his friend. Instead of dread, he smiled again.

Hope blinked. Something was wrong. Yes, she had broken through his defense and even drawn blood, but she felt different, weaker, as if she had lost something. She frowned.

A song, nearly forgotten through the years, began circulating through his mind and his lips began to move of his own volition.

"_Willie the Wimp was buried today."_

Hope frowned at that rhythmic chant. Then she was forced to defend herself again from his attack. With each blow, Hope felt a little more of her power, her essence drain away into her opponent. She would have to finish him quickly, or risk losing…what would she lose?

"_They laid him to rest in a special way,"_

She blocked several more attacks and managed to get a few yards away from the man. Her mind screamed at the weapons lying strewn across the bloodied yard, but only a handful of them leapt towards her adversary, only to bounce away at the last moment as he stood still.

"_Sent off in the finest style,"_

She heard her unholy father, bellowing in her ears. A mixture of encouragement and threat that she was accustomed to hearing, but now it seemed muffled, almost distant, as if his presence and power were fading off into the distance.

"_That casket mobile really drove them wild."_

The old man came at her again, even faster than before. He was moving like a man many years younger than hi appearance presented. His eyes were alight with fire. The enchanted weapon slashed towards her and she blocked it, only to feel another bite of her power consumed.

In a moment of terrible realization, the effects of her confrontation became crystal clear.

He was sapping her powers with each attack, pulling her energy and strength whenever their weapons came into contact.

Then she was forced to retreat again. Preferring to give ground than give up a portion of her power.

Desperation fueled inspiration, and in a flash, she changed her tactics, attacking wildly with the last of her strength. She felt her Dark Father fill the void of power that she desperately needed. Her green eyes blazed with fury. She heard his monstrous voice thunder, "Destroy him!"

Now it was David's turn to retreat, surprised by her sudden return of strength. Then he smiled knowingly.

"Stupid kid," he thought. "Real stupid."

He backed quickly away, and deflected two more projectile weapons before they closed again.

In spite of the measure of power he had been able to glean from his previous opponent, and the small bits he received with every contact of Hope's blade, he was tiring. He was sure Hope could perceive it, and he knew his family would. Only one thing to do.

David stumbled away, a little more off balance, his chest beginning to heave.

Alexander and Xena stepped forward, ready to leap out to his aid, but he shook his head emphatically. Then Hope attacked again, and this time knocked David to the ground. He rolled clear of her vicious slash down and got back to his feet, looking drawn and haggard.

"That all you got?" he said in a raspy voice.

Hope, her confidence blossoming, smiled and attacked again, just as David anticipated. He stepped back again and deflected the first blow, dodged the second and managed to weakly deflect the third, but his weapon went bouncing to the earth.

"No!" Xena cried out, wrenching free from Gabrielle's hand. She vaulted the railing of the porch and charged.

In a sudden burst of speed, David rolled sideways and then back again. His ruse of feigning weariness abandoned.

"Wait!" David shouted in a strong voice, and he dove for his weapon, while Hope, distracted for a crucial moment, looked up to see Xena charging, and then her green eyes fell upon David again and she stabbed as the old man rolled back over.

Xena slid to a stop, her mouth open, her eyes going wide in horror.

Hope looked back at her triumphantly as she held the sword in place, piercing David's body just beneath the sternum. Then her triumphant smile faded slightly as she felt something tickle inside her body. She looked down and saw the silver katana protruding from her body, on the left side of her middle. It had obviously not struck anything vital, or she would have felt even more discomfort. Her eyes looked back into David's and saw him smile fiercely.

"Gotcha!" David hissed. Then he closed his eyes and emptied the reservoir of energy he had sapped from both Hope and the fallen Inures. The energy blasted up the blade of the katana and flooded into Hope like a tidal wave, blasting everything out of its path and flooding her soul.

Xena resumed her run towards he father, but a sudden, blinding flash of white and a wall of energy knocked her off her feet, sending her rolling back towards the house.

She dimly saw Hope's figure flying through the air.

The spots died behind Xena's eyes and she saw her father lying motionless on the earth, the scimitar still protruding from his body.

"No!" she gasped.

It wasn't summer any more. It was cold, like late autumn. David looked down at his body, wondering why it wouldn't move. Then he looked back up at the sky, watching the clouds move lazily across the endless field of blue.

"Wow," he breathed.

"Dad?" Xena cried. "Dad!"

She dropped to his side and cradled his head in her lap while trying desperately to stem the flow of blood from his horrible wound. She ripped her traveling cloak from her shoulders and pressed the large wad of cloth against the wound in his chest.

"You're going to be okay!" she whispered desperately. "You're going to be okay!"

David smiled. "It's okay, baby," he said softly.

"You're going to be okay," she said again.

"I'm proud of you," David continued, looking up into her eyes.

"Don't!" Xena hissed.

"Don't have a choice, this time," he replied with a soft smile. "It's alright, though. It doesn't hurt."

Xena felt the tears burning her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.

"Hey," David smiled. "None of that, now. It's okay. I'm not really going anywhere, you know?"

"Don't you leave me!" Xena hissed.

Gabrielle, Alexander and Eve all knelt around him and he looked into Gabrielle's eyes and smiled.

"Hey you," Gabrielle choked. "I knew you'd find us."

"Wasn't too hard. Last I checked, this was my place too." David looked into her eyes, smiled, took a deep breath and sighed. "Man, it's been a busy afternoon. I'm bushed."

Xena laughed in spite of herself. When they looked back down at him, his eyes were closed and he was completely still.

"Dad?" Xena asked, gently shaking him. He made no sound, but lay there, his face peaceful with a subtle smile on his lips.

"Dad?" Xena felt a panic rising in her. "Dad?"

"David!" Gabrielle cried.

Xena shook him again, more violently this time.

"No!" Xena felt the sudden terror of a child awakening to a nightmare. "Don't ! Dad! Don't go!"

She shook him again and then held his body against her, sobbing in total despair.

A cry began somewhere deep within the very bowels of her spirit. When it finally exploded from her, it wailed across the field and echoed forlornly in the nearby trees.

Alexander led Gabrielle from the house. She moved slowly, still massaging the feeling back into her hands. She stopped short when she saw Xena, kneeling on the ground, bent over the body of her father.

Xena's body was wracked with grief so powerful that it caused her physical pain. She clutched at her father, holding him to her, as if she would will his body back to life.

She felt Alexander and her mother fall to the ground next to her as grief took hold of them. When she looked up, Gabrielle had David's hand in her own, while Alexander put a comforting hand on Xena's shoulder.

A soft, low moan of pain from one of the fallen bodies intruded on their sadness.

Xena's entire body froze, and her eyes ceased tearing, frosting over like a meadow in winter.

When she looked back, she saw Hope's figure moving weakly.

Gently she let David's head settle back onto the earth and got to her feet. There was a building pressure of wrath expanding in her chest. It sapped her conscience and made the world flash red before her blurry eyes.

Her breath became raspy as she moved towards the fallen enemy.

Hope pulled herself up and looked down at the blood on her belly. The wound wasn't deep, it wasn't even serious, then she felt fingers grasp her hair and wrench her up to her feet.

Her green eyes locked with the pale blue of Xena's for only an instant, and then the other woman's elbow bashed into the side of her head and sent Hope sprawling again.

Hope bounced on the packed earth of the path leading into the farm. She felt the pain in a way that she had never experienced before. The pain ricocheted through her body and fed her sudden sense of fear. The protection she had enjoyed was gone. In a sudden horrifying moment, she realized that she could no longer draw on the strength of her unholy father. Even his raging voice, so long a portion of her existence, was ominously silent. He hand drifted up to her mouth and came away red. She felt weak, impotent, she felt…human!

Her eyes widened in realization as strong hands hauled her back to her unsteady feet.

Gabrielle, Eve, and Alexander all heard the sickening impact and looked up from their mourning just in time to see Hope go sprawling to the ground again with a thud.

Gabrielle's eyes went wide in fear when she saw the pitiless expression on Xena's face. Was that the way she had looked the first time, before she became the warlord?

"Oh no," She gasped.

Alexander tore himself away from his father and moved quickly to intervene.

He wasn't quite fast enough.

Xena hauled the young doppelganger of her best friend and mother back onto her feet and blasted her forearm once more into Hopes face.

For a third time, the stunned girl reeled back and felt her back ring in protest as she slammed against the fence, sliding to the ground with blood streaming from her nose and mouth. The pain was a dull throb that coursed through her body in a way that the power she had enjoyed before had moved. Only instead of the ecstatic feel of the energy, it was a river of agony. Her eyes wouldn't focus as she watched the amorphous shape of Xena stalk towards her.

Xena lashed out with a foot and caught Hop in the side. There was a crunch and the stricken girl rolled over several times before coming to a halt. A stifled cry burst from her at the contact.

Xena smiled and kicked again, with similar results, watching with satisfaction as Hope tumbled across the yard a second time, her blood staining the ground crimson as she tried desperately to claw herself away from the savage onslaught.

Suddenly a shape interposed itself between her and her prey. She looked up to see Alexander standing in front of her, his hands on her shoulders.

"Xe?" he asked urgently. "What are you doing?"

"Settling a debt," Xena replied and she pushed her brother out of the way, stepping over to stand above Hope, an insane grin on her face.

She flipped Hope over with a kick that exerted only a little less effort than her previous ones, and picked drew her sword.

"Whoa!" Alexander jumped up, his grief momentarily suspended.

He interposed himself between his sister and the fallen girl.

"Don't do this!" he said, holding out his hand to stay her.

"Get out of the way, Alex!" Xena hissed.

"This isn't right!" Alexander continued.

"Get out of the way, Alex!" Xena repeated, more coldly. Her breath was heaving as if the rage itself were a weight upon her shoulders. Her fingers tightened to a white knuckled grip on her sword.

"The girl is helpless!" Alexander protested more sternly.

"She killed our father!" Xena screamed in despair.

"I know!" Alexander shouted back. "But this fight is over! Remember what dad always said? Fight evil all you like, but be careful that you don't become what you behold!"

Xena looked down at Hope, lying helpless behind her brother. Hope's eyes were wide with fear.

"Don't do this," Alexander said more softly.

Xena looked back at her mother, seeing the fearful expression on her face. Her heart was thundering in her chest, as if it would explode from inside her. Her breath felt like fire in her lungs and her entire body trembled with the fury that commanded release.

A cry blasted from the very bowels of her soul, filled with despair and pain. She turned and flung the weapon across the yard, staggered a few steps and collapsed, wracked by grief that caused her physical pain.

Eve stepped quickly to Xena, tears in her own eyes as she wrapped her arms around Xena's shoulders, trying to ease a pain that she knew would never end.

Hope's green eyes looked up at Alexander as he turned to stare at her. She expected to see something that warranted his words on her behalf. A look of compassion, or pity, something other than what she actually saw. Instead, Alexander stared down at her with eyes the same cold, pitiless green as hers. He fixed her with a gaze that was filled with calculating wrath.

"Understand one thing, little sis," Alexander said, kneeling down before her. His voice was completely devoid of the compassion he had expressed mere moments before. His eyes bored through hers and reawakened the terror that she had been feeling a moment before.

"You're alive, now, because if I had let her kill you, you would have won! You would have destroyed her!" His voice was a tight growl, not unlike that of the man she had just vanquished. "And you aren't going to win this one, you little twice baked bitch! No way in hell! You're going to stand trial for what you did here! Maybe they'll execute you, maybe they won't! If they do, I know Xe will be the one swinging the axe, and I'll be the one holding you in place for it! Got it?"

He reached into his pouch and removed a coil of cloth and began tending to her injuries.

"My father will destroy you," Hope managed to gurgle with as much defiance as she could muster.

Alexander stopped and looked at Hope for a long moment. His eyes lost their focus for a moment and then a smile touched the corners of his mouth. A knowing smile that told she knew her threat was empty. Her father was silent in her mind and her powers were forever lost. In that moment, she became acutely aware of how close to permanent destruction she had truly come.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

In the aftermath of the attack, the village of Poditea was ruined beyond any hope of being reclaimed. Barely one hundred people had managed to survive, and of that small number, over seventy were widows. The strong walls and stone structures within had been reduced to rubble that still smoldered days after the attack.

Barely a house in the village was unaffected by the conflict. Nearly every family lost at least one member in the battle.

The fallen invaders were piled and burned, while the funerals for the slain villagers lasted for the better part of a week, lighting the ruined fields at night like beacons of grief. Those few buildings that could be repaired were made habitable as quickly as possible and served as the housing for those who had no where to go. Many of the wounded from the battle did not live more than a few days before they, too, succumbed to their wounds and died.

Gabrielle took charge of overseeing the medical needs of the wounded, while Alexander took over the management of the reconstruction, along with Timitus and Salius. The three of them were the most experienced in these jobs, having learned their carpentry skills from David. In a couple of days they had reinforced the main warehouse and the village hall enough to serve as temporary housing for the refugees.

The first outsiders to arrive, was a large contingent of the Athenian Guard. They brought with them necessary medical and food supplies, and quickly began assisting in the cleanup of the dead and treatment of the wounded. They also took custody of a battered and beaten Hope.

Merchants arrived a few days later, bearing goods for the fall market. They were aghast at the misery they beheld. Many of them donated their goods to the recovery of Poditea, though few ever believed that the village could truly be saved. In quiet circles, and in neighboring kingdoms, Poditea became known as the "Village of Widows".

The council was gone, either killed or fled and the village watch had been decimated by the attackers. Most remaining families didn't even bother to try and start over. They simply packed what belongings they could salvage and left.

All during the exodus, Xena could be seen, seated outside the battered city gate, her eyes staring out at the distant horizon, as if she were awaiting the arrival of someone, or something. It was as if she were reliving old memories that sapped her very essence.

Her eyes were cold and unmoving as she looked at the road leading away from the village. She didn't even hear the footsteps as Alexander came to kneel beside her.

"Hey, sis," he said gently. "How are you doing?"

"The Athenians took Hope to Athens, for trial," Xena said in a mute voice.

"Yup," Alexander replied.

"They said that she'll likely be executed," Xena finished. "I told them not to be too gentle with her."

The very effort of speaking sent a ripple of pain through her soul, but she couldn't cry. It was as if she had exhausted all her tears. All she could see was his face, calm and peaceful, with eyes so dark, deep and filled with love, staring back at her and then closing that one last time.

Now her father lay in state in their home, waiting until the evening when they would make the journey up the hill and to the family tomb to lay him in his final resting place.

Alexander opened his mouth to say something else, but nothing came out. He placed his hand on Xena's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Then he rose and turned away.

"You were right," Xena said suddenly.

Alexander paused and looked back at her, still unmoving.

"I was?"

"When you stopped me from killing her," Xena continued. "You were right. Thanks."

Alexander smiled, but said nothing. He gave a little nod, though she didn't see it, and turned and left her alone.

It wasn't that he had cared any less for their father than she. But he knew about Xena's past, and her past life. In essence, this was the second father that had been taken from her. Even though she had been able to grow to adulthood with her father around, they all had known that the bond between David and Xena was special. It was as if Xena had been trying to make up for the years lost that first time around.

That bond had been both a blessing, and now, it was a curse. One small comfort from her previous life was that she had not known her father for more than a few years before he had been killed. That sense of anonymity had somehow made the loss easier to bear. Now, the man she had grown up and known was gone, leaving a gaping cavity where her heart used to be.

Their hearts were like leaden weights in their chests as they bore the bier that carried David towards the old family tomb on the hill. David lay beneath a soft white shroud, his hands folded comfortably on his breast. Timitus, Salius and the other two pall bearers, soldier from Athens, did their best to keep their emotions in check as they carried David to his resting place, but tears still managed to fall from their eyes. They stood proudly, their heads up, eyes forward as they made the gentle climb. Behind them, Gabrielle walked, a dark veil over her head, her eyes streaming with tears. In spite of it, she had a peaceful expression on her face. She felt Xena's hand on her arm, and Alexander stood opposite, his own eyes seemed frozen on the open tomb ahead. Aside from a gentle quiver in his lip, there was no hint of his emotions on his face.

Xena's heart was thudding in her chest, her own emotions held in check only by a desire to appear strong before her mother. She knew, as soon as this was done, she would go off alone for a while and let it all out. She needed to weep.

The wind blew softly and a gentle drizzle fell, like tiny tears from above. The sky was gray, like it wished to fold a gentle veil over the entire world on this particular day.

Xena's eyes wouldn't leave the body of her father, lying beneath the shroud. Only yesterday, he had been so alive, so filled with joy and wit. And now, he was an empty shell.

She felt the tear roll, unbidden, down her cheek, and she caught her breath.

As they neared the tomb, a soft crack was heard from the foliage, just above the entrance. Instantly, the procession halted as eyes looked up towards the destination in mild confusion. The breeze shifted, picking up a little strength. The whole world seemed to pause.

A figure moved behind the bushes. Xena and Alexander both stepped before their mother, their hands grasping the hilts of their swords as they watched the figure above. It froze for a moment and then, slowly, rose and stepped out from concealment.

There had been rumors that several priests from Hope's army still lurking in the area surrounding the devastation that had once been Poditea.

Xena and Alexander grasped their sword hilts, ready to attack if this was one of those errant priests.

Xena heard a soft intake of breath from her mother, and felt Gabrielle's hand on her arm as she stepped forward, raising the veil and looking up at the figure, now standing in plain view.

He was dressed in a pair of faded blue pants, and a long black coat that flapped in the breeze. On his hands were fingerless gloves. In one hand, he held a bow. His hair was long and dark, and his eyes were deep, brown and filled with wonder. Immediately, they all recognized the scar covering his left eye

Xena's hand loosened on her sword hilt and her eyes filled with tears as she saw her mother smile suddenly, her own hands rising over her heart.

Gabrielle's eyes locked on his, and that moment seemed to stretch out for an eternity as David gazed down at her, young and strong again.

He smiled a soft, gentle smile and slowly raised the bow towards them in greeting.

Xena couldn't believe it. It suddenly felt as if her heart might burst from her chest. She glanced over at her brother and saw the same, wondrous expression on his face.

"David?" Her mother breathed.

A soft, luminous green glow surrounded the man on the hill, and the figure slowly faded from sight. When the glow subsided, Xena suddenly remembered to breathe, though her first breath came out in something of a gasp.

"Who – what was that?" she whispered.

Gabrielle reached back and took hold of Xena's hand, a wistful, heartbreaking smile on her face, in spite of the fresh tears. "Xena, dear," she said in a soft, tremulous voice. She looked back at her children and smiled. "He told you he wasn't really going anywhere."

In one, they all looked back up to that vacant place, and Gabrielle finally let her emotions go, feeling the tears flow freely at last.

"I'll see you again soon, my love. I'll see you again soon."

He saw his daughter smile through her tears, knew that he had accomplished one more act of levity in that sad moment, and then the world faded to a blinding white shimmer. Everything went still and Xena's desperate pleas echoed in the distance before they faded to an ominous silence.

"So," he thought. "This is dying. It isn't so bad, once you think about it. No, not so bad at all."

He felt himself floating, as if on a gentle current of wind, his mind free of any constraint. Somewhere in the brilliant void, he could make out anew sound. Distant, but distinct.

It was soft, low, steady, and somehow, strangely familiar. His curiosity aroused, he drifted towards it, listening to its gentle keening note.

Beep……beep…….beep…..beep…

"Where are you?" he thought. "What are you?"

Beep….beep….beep….beep…

"Gabrielle?" His mind drifted. "Xena? Alexander?"

Beep….beep….beep….beep…

The sensation of floating slowly gave way to a feeling of descent.

"Not good," he thought with a rising fear. "Down is bad."

He tried to fight the feeling. Tried to withdraw from it, but it was like a strong river current, pulling him inexorably towards some unknown fate. The soft beeping grew in volume and began to pick up speed.

"Gabrielle!" he cried out with his very being. Then the whole of existence faded to black, and all was silent except for that strange siren call.

Beep….beep….beep….beep…

A light began to appear again, this time deep and red, rising until it became a painful, blinding crimson torrent. The soft beeping was a bell, tolling in his ears, and he felt it reverberate in his skull with painful authority.

A groan escaped his lips as he tried to move.

"I think he's coming around," a voice said from one side. "Get the doc!"

That voice was vaguely familiar, though it had been years – decades really - since he last heard it.

His body felt heavy, sluggish, like he was trapped in molasses. There was a scratchy sensation in the back of his throat. He tried to lift a hand to his head, and found that difficult.

"Easy there, buddy," that voice said again, gently in his ear. "Just take it easy."

The red light behind his eyelids fluttered back to the brilliant pale white of fluorescent bulbs, as his eyes flickered open.

Another voice, calm, but different, said gently. "Mr. Forester? Can you hear me?"

David nodded.

"Good," the voice continued. "My name is Doctor Grant. You've been unconscious for a while. Don't rush."

David felt a rising sense of panic as he began to recognize the sounds and words. But this was all wrong? Where was he? Where was Gabrielle? Where was his family?

He had to see what was happening! Had to see where he was! He forced his eyes open, ignoring the white hot pain that flooded his mind.

"What?" he croaked.

The room was sparsely decorated, in pale pastels, with stark white blinds on the large sealed window. Florescent bulbs glowed in recesses along the wall. Hovering over him was a woman, in her late thirties or early forties, with long brown hair and dark, critical brown eyes, wearing the standard white coat of a physician.

"Who?" David croaked again as the panic rose like a wave. "Where? No, no, no, this isn't!" he struggled to rise, ignoring the renewed pain rifling through his body.

"Just relax," The doctor said firmly. "You had an accident, but you're going to be okay!"

"No!" David felt his strength return in a sudden surge of adrenalin. Two hands fell firmly upon is shoulders and he saw Tommy and Dusty, looking down at him in confusion and concern.

"Easy Shakes!" Dusty pleaded. "Everything's cool!"

"No!" David kept repeating. His voice and strength built in power and ferocity. He didn't belong here. He needed to get back to his family.

The Doctor reached over and hit a small button on the IV bag attached to his left hand.

A few moments later, soothing warmth began to flow through his body, sapping his strength.

He struggled against this new unseen foe that caused his own body to ignore his demands. The pain faded with his strength and the world began to get fuzzy.

"Just take it easy, now," she was saying firmly. "You're going to be okay."

The world began to fuzz over and his strength ebbed into a warm floating glow of narcotics.

"Gabrielle," he muttered in dismay as the blessed warmth engulfed him in darkness.

Tommy, Dusty and the Doctor all exchanged looks of confusion.

"What did he say?" Tommy asked.

Dusty shrugged and shook his head. "Gabrielle?"

"So, who in the hell is Gabrielle?" Tommy asked.

"Is that a member of his family?" Doctor Grant asked. "Someone we should contact, perhaps?"

Dusty shook his head again, and Tommy shrugged.

"The only family he had was his late wife, Elizabeth," He said helplessly. "I don't know any Gabrielle."

Debbie's small Ford Ranger crunched through the soft blanket of unshovelled snow, stopping before the side entrance of the modest little brown split level ranch that David called home.

A single, worn trail in the snow, moved between the home and the detached garage at the back. Debbie spied the small plume of steam rising from the garage and trudged to the side door.

Warm air enfolded her as she stepped into the tidy workshop. Parts lay in neatly ordered rows on the tool bench and a large engine block rested on a stand nearby.

Across from the entrance, in the opposite bay, sat the frame of a large vehicle, propped up by four worn wheels.

She heard the sound of a creeper scooting across the cement, and smiled.

"Shakes?" she called.

"Yeah," David's voice drifted up from beneath the fame.

Debbie detected a frostiness to his voice that she had never heard before.

Suppressing a shudder, she moved to the small chair at the front of the bay and seated herself, watching his feet.

"How you feeling, hon?" she asked lightly.

"Fine," David replied.

Debbie sighed. Now she knew something was seriously wrong. There was no such thing as one word answers where her friend was concerned.

"We all missed you at Thanksgiving Dinner?" she offered. "Marty ended up having to cook."

"Yeah, sorry," David replied again with the same icy detachment. "Been busy."

"I can see that," Debbie nodded, looking at the parts placed about the room. "Have you even been inside the house in the last month?"

The movement beneath the car ceased, and Debbie heard a resigned sigh.

"Was there something you wanted?" he asked.

There was just enough vehemence in his tone that her temper flared a bit in response.

"Yes there is!" she barked suddenly. "I want you out from underneath that old clunker and looking me in the eye, right now!"

The creeper slid quickly out from beneath the car and David stood, his eyes glaring back at her with unusual intensity.

"What?" he demanded.

She matched his gaze and bored through the wall of anger to what lay behind, and her breath caught in her throat.

There was such a feeling of despair that it felt like it the temperature in the room dropped below the temperature outside.

"Oh, David," she said gently.

The facade began to crack as she watched. The depression ripping its way through the mask of rage and his eyes glistened. Then, in a sudden burst of anger, he flipped the workbench over and collapsed against the wall.

Tools and components rained down in a cacophony of noise, only partially obscuring his desperate cry.

Debbie stepped up next to him and knelt at his side. Her hand came down on is shaggy head, and she felt the trembling in his body, the waves of anguish and total despair.

"Oh, baby," Debbie soothed him like she would a small child. She wrapped her thin arm about his shoulders. He fell into her embrace, like a child awaking from a nightmare, and all the emotion came flooding out of him as he repeated over and over. "They were real!"

Once the emotion had burned itself out, Debbie led him back into the house and down into the basement. She poured a glass of whiskey for him and a glass of wine for herself, and waited.

David absently turned the glass in his hand, watching the light sparkle against the ice.

Finally, a weary sigh came from him. "It was real, Deb. I had a life, a family, a home. I was there for almost thirty years! Now everyone and their grandmother are telling me that it wasn't real!"

"You were comatose for four days, hon," Debbie offered. "Who knows how the mind reacts in a situation like that?"

His eyes snapped up at her with a touch of the old ferocity. As if he were defying her to call him a liar.

"It was real!" he said again emphatically. "She was real! She was here, twice!"

"Okay," Debbie said with quiet strength. "Okay. So?"

David frowned. "So what?"

Debbie smiled and took a sip of her wine. "So, tell me about her?"

Debbie listened patiently as David recounted his life story with Gabrielle, Xena, and Alexander. When David finally finished, she sat still for a moment, as if trying to absorb all that she had heard.

"Well?" David asked. "Does that sound like a crazy person talking? Some wild hallucination?"

Debbie shook her head and smiled. "No, hon, it doesn't. But you have to realize that everything you're saying changed the moment you met her on that road. She wasn't there. You wiped out. You totaled Rosie and wound up in a coma for four days! That's what we all saw. What are we supposed to think? You're talking about things that happened a month ago – or will happen a year, or more from now? Panama wasn't rebuilt in two days. You were working on her when I got here?"

David looked up at her once more with that hint of defiant fire. Then he looked back down at the glass again

"What do you want me to say, Deb?" he asked mutely. "You want me to admit that it was all a dream? A freak of the mind when in a coma? Then why is it that I can remember every detail of our lives together, but I can't be sure about how to get out to Jerry's place any more? Why all of this is so new to me again, and I miss the old farm? I can't remember Lizzy's face anymore, but I could describe every detail of Xena and Alexander's faces? Why I can ride a horse like a pro, but I'm totally whacked where driving is concerned? Why I feel seventy years old on the inside, but my body keeps trying to convince me that I'm thirty-three?"

Debbie shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, hon."

"Then that means one of us is wrong and I know it isn't me!" David said with terse finality. The emotion began to build again. This time he quickly regained control. "They were real, period! And I won't pretend they were some crazy mind fuck brought on by a thunk on the head!"

"Okay," Debbie said calmly. "Okay. No one is saying you should, hon. But you're gonna have to be patient with the rest of us, alright? It's a lot to believe."

"I haven't felt overly social since I got back anyway," David replied.

"We noticed." Debbie said evenly. She studied his face for a moment and sighed inwardly.

In her mind, a large part of her wanted to believe the fantastic tale he had just imparted. As she watched her friend seated before her, stewing, she realized that he believed it completely.

She also had to admit, he was different. It was as if his modern skills had atrophied greatly in those few days. His demeanor had changed as well, long beyond his apparent loss. There was an absoluteness about him that hadn't existed before, a wisdom that went well beyond his years.

"I just need some time, Deb," he finally sighed. "Just a little more time."

A little more time ended up being the rest of the winter and well into the following spring. While David never turned a visitor away when they showed up at his home, it was apparent that he wouldn't go out of his way to entertain them either. The visits dwindled and finally ceased. It was agreed on by everyone that David should be watched carefully, if not interfered with.

David's tinkering moved to his slot at the clubhouse, and the rather large task of repairing his motorcycle.

David gently slid Rosie's front fender over the tire and threaded the first of the bolts that would hold it in place.

When he looked up to grasp the required wrench, he saw her standing their, her brilliant red hair shimmering in the hot light of the work lamp.

Rosie's crystalline yellow eyes looked back at him critically.

"What are you doing, baby?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest.

David shrugged. "Putting you back together."

"Besides that," Rosie replied. "Baby, you haven't felt wind in your face for half your life, according to you, and you're sitting here wasting time patching me up."

David smiled. "Well, we finally got all your parts, so, why not?"

"You're killing yourself, baby," Rosie replied. "You know that? Every day for the last six months, you've been in your garage, working on Ma, or in the shop, tinkering with me, and every night, you're at home, drinking yourself into a stupor. We need to snap you out of this funk you're in."

"It's not a funk," David protested.

At that, one crimson eyebrow rose.

"Dammit, Rosie," David faced the spirit. "How can I let this go?"

"You can't," Rosie replied evenly. "Not like this anyway."

Her yellow eyes focused on another machine sitting patiently across the shop, covered in a fine layer of dust.

"Why did you buy her?" she asked.

David followed the spirit's gaze and saw the massive blue and white Valkyrie sitting patiently in the corner, looking forlorn and lost.

The memories of that night, so long ago in his mind, flashed before his eyes and he blinked the memory away.

"I thought we agreed that she'd be my over the road bike, since you were beginning to get a little tired?" David replied.

"And since then, she's been sitting in that corner, gathering dust and feeling like an abandoned stepchild," Rosie continued. There was a touch of annoyance in her voice.

David looked back over at the machine, feeling more than a little trepidation. After all, in his mind, this was the machine that had betrayed him on the highway that previous October night. This was the motorcycle that was totaled, not Rosie. And here they both were, their roles reversed in some twist of fate that he could not even recall.

Rosie's pink hand came to rest on his shoulder and her face knelt down next to his ear.

"Look at her," she said in a soft motherly tone. "Sitting in the corner, all alone."

In a flash, David saw the figure of another woman, sitting alone, like the one girl at a dance, waiting for someone to come along and offer to take her across the floor.

His eyes went wide. She was small, with creamy skin and pale blue hair, the same hue as the machine she represented. Her clear eyes searched the room absently, and she brushed some of the dust off her pale arm. Then she looked at David, as if realizing for the first time, that someone was actually seeing her. She shifted uncomfortably when she realized that it was her owner that was looking at her.

"She doesn't even have a name yet," Rosie said gently. "She has no sense of self, no identity." There was a touch of pity in her voice. "No sense of purpose. And she doesn't understand any of this."

Rosie patted his shoulder gently. "You've spent enough time fiddling with me. Why don't you introduce yourself? At the least, she deserves a naming, doesn't she?"

David swallowed a sudden lump that formed in his throat. When he looked back at the lift, Rosie sat their, in her state of disassembly, the golden headlights staring at him, as if pressing him to act.

Slowly, he lowered the lift and wheeled the partially assembled machine off to one side, and then he turned and went over to the new machine.

In his mind, he had an image of this new, young soul, looking from side to side, as if seeking some form of escape.

"Hi there," David said quietly as his hands fell on the handlebars.

He stood the bike up and pushed. The wheels didn't move. Mechanically, the rotors were probably a little stuck to the pads on the brakes, but David interpreted it a little differently.

He gave the machine a gentle shove. "It's all right," he said. "We're just gonna take a look."

The machine finally rolled forward under his guidance and he walked it over to the lift, locking the front wheel into the braces.

"There we go," he said. He reached for a shammy and a can of polish and gently began cleaning the dust and grime from the machine.

"Well," he said as he worked. "I have left you for a while, haven't I?"

He glanced up and saw the figure of the girl standing near the workbench, eyeing him curiously. It was as if she were trying to determine whether or not he was worthy of her confidence.

"Not talking much, huh," David nodded. "Well, I guess I don't blame you. I have been kind of a jerk to you since you got here."

Again, the spirit said nothing, watching him as he gently massaged the dust and dirt from her body.

"Well," David continued. "I guess I've had a lot on my mind, you know?"

His hand brushed against a rough spot on the lower frame and he paused. "You've fallen over before, haven't you?"

As if from a great distance, a small, timid voice replied. "Yes."

David smiled. "That's okay. Happens to everyone at least once." He went to the bench and grabbed the grinder. He quickly smoothed out the rough patch on the frame and then resumed his inspection.

Next, he drained the oil and removed the filter, noting the dark, burnt quality of the fluid, he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"This hasn't been changed for a while, either, huh," he continued.

The spirit shook her head slowly. It was as if she feared the he might discover some defect, some flaw that would make her unworthy of this new found attention.

At the same time David saw a subtle glow beginning to appear from within this soul as he worked. It was as if the machine were coming back from a long, dreamless sleep.

David tightened the fill plug and nodded. "You're e beautiful machine, you know that? Why'd your previous owner trade you in?"

She looked down, ashamed. "I kept getting hot."

David smiled in recognition. "Well, why don't we see of we can figure out why, okay?"

The clear eyes looked up at him with hope for the first time. "Do you think we can?"

"We already fixed part of it, just with the oil change." David replied, smiling. "Let's figure out the rest, okay?"

He slid another drain pan underneath the front of the bike and popped the clamp on the lower radiator hose.

The luminous green fluid drained out quickly, and David watched intently as it flowed.

"That doesn't look so bad," he commented. "Looks pretty clean, actually."

The spirit shook her head. "There's something inside." She said, one hand hovering over her belly.

"Inside, huh," David nodded. "Didn't you tell your other owner that?"

"She never talked to me," the spirit replied. "Not like you do."

"One of those, huh?" David said. Then he caught himself. "She? Your last owner was a woman? You mean I bought a girls bike?"

She looked at him in sudden panic, and saw, for the first time, the genuine humor in his expression. Something wonderful happened in that moment.

The spirit of the Valkyrie actually laughed. It was a wonderful, musical sound that took David instantly back to his other life and the sound of another laugh, warm and familiar.

David quickly disconnected the radiator and set it aside. Then he removed the thermostat, and found it to be functioning correctly. Frowning, he went to the sink and attached a garden hose, bringing the other end to the intake on the bike.

"You said it was something inside you, right?"

She nodded.

"Okay, Gabby," David said. He froze suddenly as the name rolled from his lips. He set the end of the hose down and felt the heaviness fall upon him like a sudden weight across his shoulders. Unbidden tears suddenly blurred his vision.

"What?" the spirit asked in surprise. Then she saw the emotion playing across his face and her mirth faltered. "What did you call me?" she asked sincerely. "Are you alright?"

David fought his emotions back under control and sighed heavily. He nodded.

"Gabrielle," he said finally. He looked at the spirit before him and nodded. "That's your name. Gabrielle."

She considered that for a moment, measuring the expression on his face. A smile began to creep across her features.

"I have a name," she whispered to herself. That subtle glow continued to grow in brilliance as her smile broadened. "I have a name."

David smiled and blinked away the tears in his eyes. He fitted the hose to the intake on the engine and turned on the water.

After a few seconds, the water began pouring out of the lower hose, still hanging from the engine.

David frowned as he watched the flow. He went over to the sink and increased the pressure, seeing only a slight increase on the flow coming out. His emotion settled back as the logical part of his mind took hold.

Quickly, he shut off the water and disconnected the hose. A few moments of rummaging through his tool box produced a small metallic fitting with two connections. To one, he reattached the hose, and to the second, an air line. He then screwed the object into the coolant intake and restarted the water.

David checked the pressure on his small compressor and then placed his hand on a button on the fitting.

"Okay, kiddo," he said. "This might feel a little strange."

He depressed the button quickly. There was a gurgling hiss, and some of the water coming from the engine blasted out with greater force. David repeated the action several times before a small brownish mass spat from the hose and the water flow increased.

"Ugh," Gabby groaned. Her pale hand clutched at her belly as if something had just stung her.

David shut off the water and stepped over to examine the small object. He smiled wryly as he realized that it was a large piece of the aluminum safety foil that covered the opening of most bottles of antifreeze.

"Well," he said, holding it up. "There's your overheating problem."

He tossed the offending mass into the nearby trash container and began reaffixing the components he had removed.

A short time later, David inserted the key into the ignition and pressed the starter switch. The big engine came at once to life, idling quietly. To him it seemed that David heard the machine sigh.

He waited, watching the temperature light on the console, occasionally bringing his hand closer to the running engine in order to gauge the heat.

After thirty minutes had passed without any tell tale signs of the machine overheating, David switched off the engine and lowered the lift to the ground.

He rolled the big machine back towards its designated spot, and paused. It was something inside pulling at him, though it felt like a small excited child tugging at his sleeve.

"I want to run! I want to run!" Gabby was begging.

David slowly climbed astride the big blue machine, his eyes looking over the controls, so familiar to him and yet, so strange. He found it difficult to breathe suddenly, and the tears welled up in his eyes again as the emotion rose quickly.

The last time he had ridden, she had been sitting behind him, her arms wrapped about his neck. He could still feel her breath, hear her voice in his ear. Something akin to fear squeezed at his heart. His mind flashed back to a summer day, in a world that everyone said did not exist.

_He stood at the door of his home, looking down at a frustrated young girl, stewing as she glared angrily at Prospero who nickered playfully, as if laughing at her._

"_Xena?" David asked. "What happened?"_

"_I fell off," Xena said angrily._

_David smiled and knelt down beside his fourteen year old daughter. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and patted it._

"_Well," he said. "There are two kinds of people who ride, honey. Those who have fallen and those who will."_

_She looked up at him and he could see the fear mixed in with the frustration._

"_The important thing," he continued, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Is to get back on that horse and keep trying."_

David looked down at the 'horse' he now sat on. He swallowed his own fear and turned the ignition key. The instruments eagerly came to life.

David's thumb hovered over the starter button. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Get back on that horse," he said to himself. "Get back on that horse."

The engine rumbled back to life. His right hand twisted the throttle a little, feeling the machine respond.

"Get back on that horse," David thought again. From his point of view, he hadn't done this for nearly thirty years. He squeezed the clutch lever, pressed the shifter down, felt and heard the soft click as the transmission engaged, and slowly twisted the throttle.

Gabby lurched forward a few feet and died.

"Okay, okay," David said as he fought the sudden fear back down. "You're out of practice and it's a new ride." He restarted the engine and tried again, getting the feel for the machine. This time he coasted to the doors and stopped a little more smoothly.

He pressed the button for the doors and watched as the world opened before him. The simple dirt path from the shop to the road seemed to beckon to him, and again, he saw the worn path that led from his front porch to the main road in a different house. It was as if the two worlds he had experienced were blending into one, and the two were incompatible. He felt his own mind rebelling against what he knew to be true and he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the rationale back into place. They HAD been real, she HAD been his wife, they HAD been together for nearly thirty years, they HAD raised a family, and so on, until reality relented and let him hold onto the memories.

His eyes focused again on the present and the road before him.

He eased Gabby down the dirt path and to the edge of the road. There was no traffic and he let the clutch engage fully as he accelerated down the road, feeling the machine hum beneath him.

With every rotation of the wheels beneath him, he felt the old skills returning. The old vigor seemed to also begin to return to his limbs. He felt the years of his life slowly moving backwards within his body. The geriatric weariness seemed to flow from him like mist, and the years rolled backwards in his mind, even as the memories of those years remained.

David coasted up onto the interstate and felt Gabby purring beneath him as he twisted the throttle. He could almost feel the spirit leaning against his back, just like Gabrielle had done.

Two hands snaked around his waist to clasp at his middle, and the sensation of a chin fell on his right shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her crystalline gaze, fixed on the road ahead and the broad grin on her face. It was in that moment that he realized that her countenance had changed somewhat. Her features had conformed themselves to something more familiar, more in line with the name she had been given.

In spite of the wind in his face, the weight settled upon him again and he fixed his eyes forward. He felt her mouth next to his ear.

"You loved her very much, didn't you?" she said in a voice that wrenched at his heart. It was her voice.

David's eyes closed for a moment and he nodded.

When they opened again, he could see a rising shadow in the distance. There was a subtle green flash. It was still springtime after all, and the thunderstorms still manifested themselves with little warning. He sighed and began looking for an exit ramp to turn around and head back. Her hand came down on his.

"This was the person you named me after?" she said with a soft smile. She leaned forward and looked at him. "I'm honored."

He looked at this new ghost and it was as much his late wife as anything ever could be. The hair was the same length, though a deep blue instead of blonde, and the eyes, clear as crystal instead of green, but it was her.

The choked feeling formed in his throat at the sight of her, and his eyes began to water again. He felt the dull ache in his chest become a palpable agony.

She smiled gently, understanding in a way no human being ever could, and then she looked ahead at the gathering clouds. She kissed his cheek and nodded.

"Go!" she urged him. "Just go!"

Something like bitter anger rose in him, accompanied by the tears. He felt his right hand roll the throttle back, feeling Gabby respond. The wind picked up and the dark clouds rushed up to meet him.

"Go baby!" Gabby urged him.

There were no more gears to go through. The throttle wouldn't roll back any further.

David saw the wall of pouring water rushing toward him, felt the thunder in the air as it rumbled. His eyes filled with something that might have matched the oncoming storm in fury, as if he were charging into one last glorious battle.

Lightning flashed and thunder bellowed. He bellowed in return and then he crashed through the falling water and instantly felt it soaking his body. The droplets pelted his body, as if it would dig deeply into his soul. He felt it flowing over him, cleansing him, washing away all the pain and regret and sorrow, leaving only the memory of her.

Another cry burst from his lips. A wail so long and full of anguish that he felt as if his soul was trying to rip itself free of his body.

He released the handlebars, his arms stretching out allowing the rain to fully wash him, mind, body and soul. Then he coasted to a stop, put down the kickstand and collapsed with his head against the handlebars, wracked by the sobs that for too long had been restrained.

The rains subsided after a while, and he felt two arms encircle him, holding him.

He saw the cream colored skin of her hands, the deep blue of her shirt. Soft comforting noises whispered in his ear and he simply let the remainder of the pain flow off his soul in the subsiding storm.

He looked back up into her eyes, and for a moment, just a moment, he saw Gabrielle's green eyes staring back at him, patient and understanding.

"I didn't want to leave them," David said suddenly. "I never wanted to abandon them like that!"

"I know, baby," Gabby replied with a soft smile. "And you didn't abandon them. In the end, you saved them."

One pale, cream colored hand reached up and touched his cheek. "You had a long and prosperous life together. You had more than most people get in one lifetime. It was your time to come home. So you did. It's that simple. You came back home."

He looked at her, a mixture of shock and pain on his face.

"Now its time to step all the way back through that door, baby," Gabby said. "It's time to come the rest of the way."

David looked up at the dissipating storm clouds, his chest heaving. His mind reeled, but a single thought echoed in the maelstrom.

Gabby fixed him with a critical look.

"If I begin to understand everything you've just shown me," she said, so much like her namesake in tone and attitude. "Then you're betraying her by not living well. You and I both know that is what Gabrielle would have wanted."

David looked at this sprit, so new and yet so like his Gabrielle.

"You can always remember the good times you had with her in that life, through me, if you need to," Gabby said with a gentle smile. "The same way you remember Lizzy, through Rosalinda, right?"

David simply stared at this newest Spirit of the Open Road and then, after a long pause, he lowered his eyes and nodded.

"Well," Gabby continued. "Then it's time for you to start living again, okay?"

The asphalt shimmered under the light of the streetlamps with deep black puddles reflecting the lights of the stars as Aaron leaned back against the door frame of Jerry's Place. It had been a quiet night for a Friday, with the exception of the two underage girls that had tried to push a couple of poorly made false I.D.'s past him. He smiled a she drew the false drivers licenses out and looked at them again. He smiled wryly as he slipped the two false credentials back into his vest pocket and looked out into the rising mist of the spring night.

The air was cool and damp, but not uncomfortable. His eyes looked down the long row of motorcycles parked in front of the place. He knew each one, and their owners at various social levels, from vaguely to all too well.

The motorcycles from the members of the Zombie Squad fell into the well, or sometimes, as in the case with Dusty, all too well categories. His ears listened to the sounds of merriment and the thump of the sound system within and he sighed.

He was a tall man, lean and muscular, with short dark hair and handsome features.

The dampness in the air made his blue jeans a touch darker, and caused them to stick, somewhat uncomfortably against his skin, but he ignored that and breathed the damp air again with a feeling of contentment.

A sound caught his ear and he perked up a bit. Another motorcycle was approaching, though he didn't recognize the sound. He saw the headlight approach and cross the intersection, turning into the parking lot and pulling to a stop at the end of the row. The man set the big machine on the kickstand and dismounted.

Aaron's gaze went dark when he saw the man.

David felt his heart thundering in his chest as he turned and looked at the doorway to Jerry's Place. Then he saw Aaron standing outside the door, fixing him with a dark stare. He strode forward, his hand balling into fists.

"Hey Aaron," David said neutrally as he met the approaching bouncer half way across the lot.

Aaron stopped right in front of David, looked him up and down once and then suddenly wrapped an arm about David's neck, embracing him.

David breathed a little sigh of relief that came out as a grunt when Aaron grabbed him.

"Shakespeare!" Aaron burst out with a laugh. Then his fingers grasped the back of David's neck and he waggled the first finger of his other hand before David's nose.

"Don't you ever pull anything like that again, you got it?" he scolded. "You scared the holy fuck out of me and everyone else!" The whiskers of his goatee moved as he smiled and laughed with relief.

David smiled and shook Aaron's hand when he offered it.

"Deal," he said.

Aaron's gaze shifted to the motorcycle ticking quietly in its place.

"New ride?" he asked, stepping over to it and looking it up and down the same way he had studied David a moment before. "I thought you were gonna put Rosie back together?"

"It's in the works," David replied. "But it's gonna take a few weeks."

"You kissed pavement that hard?" Aaron whistled.

"Apparently," David nodded. "Though I don't remember much of it."

"What do you remember?" Aaron asked in a tone that was equal measure of concern and curiosity.

David smiled grimly. "If he only knew," he thought, but he shook his head and said. "Not much."

David looked at the parked vehicles in the lot and then at the door.

"Busy tonight?"

Aaron shook his head. "Nah, it's a small crowd. Been quiet like this for the last couple of weeks, but that's typical once riding season starts. Everyone's out scratching their itch."

They began walking toward the door, Aaron asking technical questions about the rebuild of David's other bike and offering small bits of advice on parts of the project. When they reached the entrance, Aaron pulled the rickety door open for his friend and gestured within.

"Promise me you won't scare any of us like that again, and the first drink is on me," he offered with a grin.

"Done," David smiled, relaxing a bit.

Aaron gave a signal to Jerry, the tall thin bartender, and he smiled broadly and shouted.

"About fucking time Shakes! Get your ass in here!"

Several members of the Zombie Squad all turned towards the door when Jerry shouted and they also cheered in surprise when they saw David standing in the doorway.

David flushed a little with embarrassment and stepped inside.

"Oh," Aaron added quickly. "Go easy on the noobs. One of them is a cop."

"Noobs?" David turned back to Aaron, his face a question.

Aaron looked about the large room and pointed to a booth in the corner. "Yeah, couple of ladies popped in, said they were checking out the local night life." He grinned. "I already had to tell T-Bone to back the hell off twice."

David smiled and shook his head. The chorus of voices beckoning to him, drew him to the bar, and someone pressed a short glass of whiskey into his hand.

He was bombarded with questions about how he was feeling, where had he been, and the usual. He did his best to satisfy everyone's concern, or curiosity, but in his heart of hearts, he still felt decidedly out of place in this modern equivalent of Salius's old tavern.

Still, the whiskey flowed through his veins, warming away some of the tension, and he found himself loosening up as the evening progressed.

He found himself in a game of nine ball with his friend Shawn, not that David had much chance of winning. The diversion did take his mind away from the conflict in his hear, for a while at least.

After one particularly inept shot, he laughed and tossed the cue stick on the table in defeat, ready to return to the waiting stool at the bar. That was when he spied them.

The noobs, as Aaron had dubbed them, sitting in the corner booth, idly chatting and sipping at drinks.

His smile faded to a thoughtful frown as he looked at them. There was something that was almost hauntingly familiar about this whole scene he was standing in.

He felt a sudden pull, as if caught in a gentle tide, and his heart thudded suddenly in his chest as the noise and peripheral images faded into shadow. It was something like vague dread mixed with hope, though he couldn't understand why he felt it.

The figure in the far corner was quite attractive, with long flowing dark hair, pulled back in a simple ponytail, her pale blue eyes seeming to watch everything. She smiled at something her companion said and the expression seemed to brighten the entire room for a moment. Her blue eyes flicked in his direction and then back, noting him and dismissing him in the same moment. Then the blue eyes fixed on him again and narrowed in consideration, as if she were trying to recall whether or not she knew him. It was a sensation with which he could readily identify.

She leaned forward and said something to her companion and the blonde haired woman turned her gaze towards him.

His heart thudded once and then seemed to stop as he met those deep green eyes. He had to force himself not to gape at her. Someone pressed a drink in his hand and he blinked. He looked to his right and saw Shawn standing there with a smile.

"Come on back over to the bar, Shakes," he offered

Next to him, stood the rail thin form of Dusty, his eyes on the two women that David had been looking at, and the beginnings of that smile appearing on his face.

"Yeah," David nodded. He raised his glass in greeting to the two ladies and gave them a friendly nod before he turned to follow his friends. He paused suddenly and frowned.

There was something about this whole series of events that tugged at his mind. Like a subtle twinge in his gut. His two friends stopped after a few paces and looked back at him questioningly.

He looked at Dusty and Shawn and saw Shawn raise an eyebrow.

David tried to force his mind to work through the mild haze that his drinking had produced. There was something about this whole situation that tickled the edge of his consciousness. Like an image that wouldn't resolve into recognizable clarity. Was there something he was supposed to do?

In the end, he followed his two friends to the bar and took a place near the end, sipping thoughtfully at his drink.

Aaron saw the expression on his face and smiled knowingly. He left his post at the door for a moment and sauntered on over.

"You got that look again, Shakespeare," he offered. "And I can smell the smoke. What's on your mind?"

When David didn't reply at once, Dusty, who had taken a place opposite Aaron, smacked David on the shoulder. "Hey! Earth to Shakespeare! Come in!"

David blinked and looked to either side.

"Huh? What?" He smiled. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"We know," Aaron replied with a grin. "Care to share your thoughts?"

"He was gawking at the two girls sitting in that booth," Dusty grinned, nodding his head towards the corner. "And his brain shut down from lack of blood."

David smacked Dusty on the arm this time and smiled.

"Which two?" Aaron asked, looking back behind him.

"Ah, those two," Dusty pointed and then froze. "The ones that _were_ sitting in that booth."

David looked back and saw the booth, empty now. Two half drained glasses rested on the beaten table.

A sense of absolute inexplicable desperation suddenly blasted the fog from David's mind and he vaulted from the bar.

The stool he had been seated upon, fell with a clatter and David's two friends hopped back a couple of steps in surprise.

"Whoa!" Aaron leaned back.

David burst through the door into the damp evening air, his heart hammering in his chest. His eyes were wide as he looked back and forth across the myriad of parked vehicles.

"Stupid!" he cursed himself. "Stupid drunken ignorant son of a –" he muttered in despair.

Aaron and Dusty were right behind him.

"Shakes!" Dusty complained. "What are you doing?"

David didn't answer, his eyes were busy surveying the surroundings, his pulse racing. Then he heard the sound of an engine start and he bolted after it.

Aaron and Dusty exchanged confused looks and followed.

"Excuse me!" David was calling to a small white sedan that had just begun to nose out of a slot.

Aaron and Dusty halted in their pursuit and watched as David bent closer to the passenger window for a conversation.

"Son of a bitch!" Dusty heaved. He began moving towards his friend. "I'll kill him."

"Wait a sec," Aaron put a hand out to stay the shorter man. "Just hang on."

They watched as David shifted and they both caught a soft shimmer of blonde hair.

Aaron began chuckling, both at the situation and at the frustrated expression on Dusty's face.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Dusty exclaimed. "I thought someone was messing with his new ride and he's out chasing tail?"

Aaron fixed him with a dark stare. "You know all those nasty things that Michelle says about you?"

"Yeah?" Dusty looked back up at him.

"They're all true." Aaron grinned and began leading Dusty back towards the door. "Come on. Let's just leave him be."

"Maybe I can get the other one's phone number?" Dusty protested. "He just wants the driver."

Aaron flashed him a dark stare and then smiled. "Just forget it." He looked back at the car and David now kneeling next to the door and doing something that none of them had seen for many months…smiling.

"He needs this," Aaron finished.

"Well, I need some too," Dusty protested as Aaron yanked him back towards the door.

When David re entered the bar, the members of his club all clapped loudly and started teasing him. He gave a weary smile, picked up his drink and resumed his place of a moment before.

"So?" Dusty asked as he sidled up next to him. "After all that, tell me you got something."

David simply shrugged.

"A hotel key?" Dusty pressed. "Beeper? Cell phone? A fucking mailing address?"

David sipped his whiskey and smiled. "You're a real dick, you know that?"

"Did you get anything?" Dusty persisted, undaunted by David's rebuke.

"She said she had to drop her friend off," David said patiently. "And that she'd be back in about an hour."

"And you believed her?" Dusty rolled his eyes. "Man, you really did crack that thick skull of yours!"

"She'll be back," David smiled.

"Yeah, right," Dusty retorted. "Twenty bucks says you're sitting here at closing time, and she doesn't show."

David raised an eyebrow. "Do you even have twenty on you?"

In answer to the challenge, Dusty reached into his wallet and removed the bill, slapping it down on the bar in front of David.

David smiled and laid a second twenty on top of the first and then returned to his musings.

Gina Foster had been the taller one, slender and beautiful, with long luxurious dark hair and piercing blue eyes. In retrospect, the surprise he had shown when the lovely Gina had informed him that she was a police officer in a neighboring county, seemed unwarranted.

Her ability to size him up instantly, as well as the observational skills that he had noted fit the bill for a young law enforcement specialist.

As lovely as she was, David didn't spend a lot of time contemplating her. It simply felt inappropriate. Besides, it wasn't the cop that had piqued his interest. It had been her friend.

"Hey," Jerry leaned over, smiling. "Want another one?"

David looked down at the empty glass and nodded. He pulled out a cigar and lit it, losing himself in the soft wall of smoke. The cacophony of noise that the bar held within its walls seemed to fade away as he sank deeper into his introspection.

He received the fresh drink absently and turned the glass in his fingers.

Angelica Dawson was her name. She was shorter than her friend, Gina, and her hair was a soft, golden blonde, cut shoulder length. She had a more athletic build, and a beautiful face that glowed when she smiled. But it had been the deep, sea green of her eyes that he had gotten lost in. The first thing he had done, when he caught them pulling out of the parking lot, was look into those eyes, and then he had to force himself to speak.

HE couldn't even remember what he had said to them. All he remembered was seeing her smile. When she laughed, it had whisked him back through time to a place and life that he had been told had never existed.

Whatever had been said, he had obviously made an impression.

"She'll be back," David smiled and sipped his drink.


	8. Epilogue

**Chapter 7**

The bar was mostly silent, except for the gentle droning of some blues song on the juke box. Aaron had already set most of the chairs up on the tables in preparation for closing shop.

David's cigar was burnt down to a short stub which he finally mashed out. A resigned sigh escaped his lips.

Of the holdouts that remained, only Dusty and Tommy were familiar to him.

Aaron was busy guiding the last several patrons to the door.

Jerry was wiping down the bottles and sliding them back into their place with a rhythmic thud.

He paused when he found the bottle of scotch that David enjoyed and he quickly stepped forward to refill the half empty tumbler.  
David held up his hand, stopping him.

"Don't worry about it," He said solemnly. Then he looked over at Dusty. His friends expression was somber, almost regretful. He reached over and took the top twenty dollar bill from their wager, but left the bottom one on the bar.

David smiled grimly. "Take it."

"Nah," Dusty forced a smile, trying to remain upbeat.

"You won the bet, bro," David said, a little more sharply tan he meant to. He shook his head. "Just take it."

Reluctantly, Dusty took the second bill from the counter top, and shoved it into his pocket.

Then he swallowed down the last of his drink and set his hand on David's shoulder.

"I really was hoping I'd lose," he offered.

David nodded and pushed his unfinished drink closer to the spill rail.

"Thanks Jerry," he said to the bartender.

"Any time, Shakes," Jerry's narrow face crinkled into a smile.

David shook hands with Aaron and departed.

Outside, the mist was beginning to rise in the lower places around him. The air was cool and moist, scented with the fragrances, if you could call some of them that, of springtime in a city.

"Maybe it was all in my head," He finally admitted, though the words pained him.

He saw Dusty pause for a split second as he reached for the ignition switch.

"You really believe that?" Dusty asked cautiously.

David looked up and saw Gabby, standing between them, eyeing him intently. She subtly shook her head.

"They were real, baby," she said quietly. "And you know it."

David considered the specter before him and the best friend beside him. The two worlds of his existence were beginning another of their collisions.

He turned the ignition and the lights on the motorcycle came to life.

"I don't know," he finally admitted. He pressed the start button and the Valkyrie purred to life. "I don't know."

Dusty started his own bike and looked expectantly at David.

"Where too?"

David smiled. "I'm gonna fly solo for a while, if you don't mind. I need to think."

"Okay," Dusty nodded, feeling the torment within his friend as if it were his own. "Just be safe."

David began duck walking his bike back out of the spot, but Dusty's hand shot out the grasp his forearm.

"If it means anything," he offered with a smile. "I believe you."

David's eyebrow rose. "You do?"

Dusty suddenly looked a bit sheepish, an expression that David could never remember seeing before.

He nodded. "Yup."

Time for the sixty-four thousand dollar question.

"Why?" David asked.

To his surprise, Dusty needed no time to consider an answer.

"I saw you when you woke up, remember?" he said. "You didn't just wake up from a nap. You had been somewhere. And it was a place that was more important to you than anything in this shit hole." He looked around. "You didn't care about yourself, you had someone and you wanted to get back to them. That kind of thing doesn't happen overnight, Shakes."

He paused for a moment, and then he looked at David with eyes that were almost too thoughtful for Dusty.

"There's only one thing I've heard that keeps me from believing every word of it." He continued.

"And that is?" David asked.

Dusty's characteristic smile reappeared with all its usual mischief.

"There's not a snowballs chance in hell that I'd let you beat me in a fifteen point bout." He grinned, recalling the portion of his tale when Gabrielle was watching the two of them fencing in the shop and discussing the appeal of a strange young woman that they had found on the side of the road.

The laughter burst from David and a sense of relief soothed the ache in his chest a little.

Dusty rolled his bike forward. "Ride safe," he teased. "Later."

His machine coasted out of the lot and headed off into the thickening mist.

David listened to the sound of Dusty's motorcycle as it faded into the distance.

He felt Gabby's chin on his shoulder.

"I like him," she said in a voice filled with humor.

The engine purred contentedly as David coasted through the misty darkness. He had no particular destination in mind. He just rode, letting his mind move from one thought to the next.

He started with several self admonishing thoughts about chasing down two women in a parking lot outside the bar. He smiled now, as he replayed the childish event through his mind and chuckled under his breath. He must have appeared like some over enthusiastic idiot. Still, he had been so shocked to see the two of them in that place that, once the realization had struck him, he had only acted without considering what those actions should have been or how they would be perceived.

Still, the sense of deja-vu that had been so nebulous at first had troubled him. And the sudden clarity of that moment had frightened him in more ways than one.

However, like many plans realized and hastily put into action, he had probably conveyed the wrong impression.

Add to that the fact that one of them, Gina, who was probably a descendant of his own daughter, was a cop. She would have cautioned her friend not to return to see this strange, wild man at a dingy bar.

"Um, David?" Gabby's voice interrupted his thoughts. He blinked, and suddenly saw, for the first time, the flashing red and blue lights of the unmarked police car behind him.

He went tense for a moment when he saw the dark colored sedan and had to force himself to not try and run. His memory flashed back to a night when two such vehicles had attempted to run him down, driven by men employed by Gabrielle's old enemy, Alti.

He eased Gabby onto the shoulder and lowered the kickstand, reaching for his wallet to procure his drivers license and insurance information.

He was confused. He didn't think he had been doing anything unsafe. Still, sometimes a newer police officer might pick nits, just to make a quota.

David glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that it was half past four in the morning.

"Good morning," a soft, husky, feminine voice greeted him.

The blinding flashlight was lowered and David saw Gina Foster, now dressed in a standard blue police officers uniform, eyeing him closely.

She smiled, but David saw her blue eyes narrow as they pierced his.

David extended the license and insurance card, but Gina waved them away.

"That isn't why I pulled you over," she said. She went back to the car and shut the MARS lights off, returning to sit on the hood of the vehicle.

"I already pulled up your record on the computer," she continued with a smile. "You must have really been lost in thought. I had the lights on for about a mile before you noticed them. Not very safe to ride as distracted as that."

"I got a lot on my mind," David replied easily. Then he fixed her with a knowing look. "Your friend never showed back up at the bar. Cost me twenty bucks, too."

Gina nodded. "Good. I told her not to."

She might have expected him to be offended by that statement. It had been delivered with just enough edge to foster that belief.

Instead, David recognizing the protective nature of that eternal friendship, and he chuckled, nodding his head in agreement.

"Some things never change," he replied. Then he looked back at Gina and nodded again. "Smart move. I tend to look a little bit like a rogue." He gestured to his clothing. Jeans, boots, tee shirt, vest, and leather jacket.

"Not exactly the ideal image of your usual gentleman caller."

Gina smiled. "You could say that."

Gabby, standing just behind David's left shoulder leaned next to his ear.

"She's sizing you up," she whispered.

"It was smooth," David said. "The way you put me off earlier. If I had been thinking straighter, I would have seen it."

Gina shrugged. "Angie's my best friend. I didn't think it would be a good idea if she went back there all alone."

There was something in the way she made that statement that ruffled David's feathers a bit and his gaze darkened from curiosity to one of mild annoyance.

"Look," he replied sharply. "I invited her back for a drink, and I invited the two of you to come out and go on a ride with us some weekend. I didn't ask her to come home and fuck me, okay."

He put his identification back in his wallet and fixed her with another dark stare.

"Are you planning on writing me a ticket?" he continued.

Gina was a bit taken aback by the straightforwardness of his statement. "No."

"Then have a nice day," David said, turning and restarting the motorcycle. He didn't even wait to see if she would do anything. He simply eased on down the shoulder, back up on to the highway and vanished.

Days blended into weeks, and those blended into months. Spring had gone, summer was passing, and the first leaves of fall had begun to show the first edges of fire and gold.

David was kneeling beneath his lift, fiddling with the front brake caliper of Gabby's brakes.

He snapped the new brake pad into place and slid the device over the rotor when he heard the sound of a vehicle crunching down the packed earth drive.

The clubhouse and shop were deserted, which was the way David still preferred.

Several bikes had already been set aside for storage, and the usual traffic had begun to dwindle.

David saw the low black shape of Aaron's El Camino rolling towards the open doors. It turned to the side and vanished from sight, its engine rumbling. Then he heard the engine die and silence fell again, aside from the occasional metallic clang of his tools.

He heard a door open and close and then footsteps.

Sighing, he tightened the front caliper in place and move back to the rear one.

Footsteps paused at the entrance.

"Don't just sit there, big guy," David said without looking up. "Come on in. This is as much your place as it is mine."

Gabby, seated on the lift next to him suddenly kicked him in the shin.

The wrench slipped and his knuckles slammed into the frame of the bike.

He cursed and put one torn knuckle into his mouth, sucking at the wound as he turned around.

She stood in the entrance, framed by the light of the sun, and seemed to glow with an internal fire. Her hair was the color of gold, and a little longer than the last time he had seen her, and her green eyes studied him with curious amusement.

She was dressed in a pair of faded jeans, sneakers, a pale green button down shirt and a tan leather jacket. One hand concealed in the pocket of the coat, fidgeting nervously.

"Angelica!" David exclaimed, once he had extracted his knuckle. "Hi."

He heard Aarons El Camino rumble to life and it backed into view, turning and rumbling back the way it had come.

"Hi," Angelica replied with a nervous smile. "You haven't been back up to Jerry's place since that one night." She stopped. Then she shrugged. "Gina and I have been by a few times to see you. She wanted to apologize for giving you a hard time, and, well." She stopped again.

"I was wondering if that offer was still good?"

David was enchanted by the sight of her. It was as if his brain had shut down and his body refused to listen to his mind.

"Offer?" he asked, and received another soft kick in the rear by Gabby, still sitting on the lift behind him.

"Oh! That!" David smiled as his brain kicked back into gear. "Yeah, sure. Well, not right this moment." He turned and gestured to Gabby, waiting patiently on the lift. "Got a few more things to do here before we could go."

"Dinner," Gabby whispered in his ear. His eyes flicked in the spirit's direction.

"It's past six in the evening, you lug," Gabby continued. "Offer her dinner."

"You hungry?" David asked quickly.

She nodded. "A little."

David smiled. "Come on up. I'll throw us together something to eat, then I'll finish up this brake job and we can go, sound good?"

She smiled. "Fine with me."

The black El Camino sat on the shoulder, just out of sight of the clubhouse and Aaron watched as Angelica, after several minutes, finally vanished inside.

He smiled and nodded.

"Bout damn time," he said to himself. "I must be getting old, because I'm starting to get impatient."

He put the vehicle in gear and rolled back up onto the road. "Still, the ball's finally rolling again, and that's all I need."

The El Camino rumbled down the road a bit, and then with a flash of light and a puff of smoke, Aaron and the El Camino vanished.

"Yes," Ares thought. "The ball is finally rolling again."

END

A/N: The latter two chapters of this story were inspired by the song 'May It Be', from the Fellowship of the Ring Soundtrack. In that one song was captured the essence of what I wished to convey in this final chapter of the Ancient Scrolls series.

Thanks to all who have gone on this journey with me. There's nothing more encouraging than to receive feedback from others who enjoy reading these stories as much as I have enjoyed telling them.

I want to extend a special thank you to TPolTucker, Evil But Friendly Rival, JESSEK, gabxena21, and all the others who have contributed reviews as this series has progressed. Your comments have been the fuel that kept this flame burning all the way through to this final end.

Respectfully Yours,

Mike Taurguss


	9. Annex

**Authors Note:**

**At the end of Full Circle, David's teacher, Professor Arlan McGhee unearths a scroll, specifically meant for him, written by David after years with his beloved Gabrielle. As with some writers I have been privileged to meet, one thing that I do, is research (to a small degree) and creation of side works that augment the story line and keep things flowing. Each of these stories has a soundtrack, compiled from my collection of music, and I do own various objects that I have referred to in these stories, or have had made them. I like to have something physical from each of my characters, to remind me of those characters and keep me in the correct frame of mind when writing.**

**For example: Rosie and Gabby, the Honda Shadow and Honda Valkyrie owned by David Forester in this series are the two motorcycles that I currently own. The Cutlass, Panama, driven in the car chase from Full Circle was the car I owned back when I was in college (though not as built up as I made it in the story).**

**The sword and bowie knife David uses are hanging on my wall along with 'artifacts' from other stories I have written over the years.**

**This piece was initially intended to serve as the foundation for a 'flashback' story I had a mind to write, between Restitution and Awakenings, however the plot line never really developed the way that I wanted. Instead, I post it here now, for those who were curious about what David had to say to his old mentor. Enjoy!**

**Explanations**

Dear Professor McGhee,

I believe I have set a new record for procrastination, since I haven't started writing this until some time around 100 A.D., I think.

If you are reading this, then my theory was correct. I want you to know that I apologize for roughing up your security boys. It was, unfortunately necessary, as was the installation of the security gate, to ensure that I wouldn't be disturbed when I executed my plan.

Know that the Chronos Stone was in this tomb, up until the other night. That was how I got to where I am now. And where I am? What wonders have I seen? They are too numerous and too amazing to list in one message. Besides, my wife, Gabrielle, was kind enough to record most of our life together in the series of other scrolls you'll find next to my sarcophagus, so I won't bother to reiterate them here.

I doubt very much that these writings will be widely accepted in academia. Not surprising, since the first batch wasn't either. Oh well, such is life?

I flew to Greece with you, originally to say my final farewell to Gabrielle, in that tomb. That was my sole purpose at the time, but then something amazing happened! I found her wedding ring in that sarcophagus! It's the ring that I enclosed in the other letter to you. If you haven't found it, it's in the right side saddle bag on Rosie. It came from a small jewelry shop, twenty miles North of the site. Please tell the fine lady there that she did say yes, and that I have since had the most wonderful life any man can ever hope for.

As the job of the archeologist is to piece together the facts of the past, including the people and culture, allow me to make your job easier with regards to the remains you will find here.

Poditea as a whole, is a farming community. The people are friendly and the land is relatively peaceful, with the occasional band of thieves that try and set up shop along some of the nearby roads. We have a small, but highly effective local militia that usually takes care of those problems. The average resident here is about five and a half feet tall, making me somewhat unique among the locals, since I stand over six feet. Along with the farmers, who make up the majority of the population, we also have several other tradesmen in the village. There is a wind driven mill, if you can believe it, that is located on the north east corner of the village, about two hundred yards beyond the perimeter of the outer wall. We also have a single blacksmith in the center of town along the western wall. And then there's myself and one other, a young man named Timitus, who act as the local carpenters. My experience in woodworking has come in very handy while I've been here, and the results were quite lucrative.

We had a third partner, Timitus's younger brother, Salius, but he left our little business about ten years ago after his father and stepmother, also the sister to Gabrielle, passed away. He now runs the local inn.

Now, the real reason I am writing this to you. To help you understand why I abandoned my life in the modern world and came back here. As sappy as this might sound, I did it for love. My life, though well appointed in the future, was empty until Gabrielle wound up there with me for that short period of time. When she was gone, the emptiness returned, only this time I felt it more deeply because I recognized it for what it was.

When the opportunity presented itself for me to reclaim what I had lost, I didn't think twice about it. I could find love at the cost of my fortune. Which is more important in the grand scheme of things? Yes I gave up millions in assets and money, but I gained something far more valuable and long lasting.

Since you already know me, there's little point in expounding on that subject, so I won't bother you with my usual lack of humility.

Now, my wife, Gabrielle, on the other hand? In one word: Passionate!

I know that standard procedure is to scan the skull and reconstruct the physical countenance of the person, which you have already done. But your computers could never recreate that light that is within her, which for you is unfortunate, for she is beautiful to me in so many ways, other than just physically. Her true beauty radiates from within, and that has only served to augment the beauty that you might see without.

When you first meet her, she has a light about her that will brighten a dark room. At least that was how I perceived it the first time I saw her. There is strength within her that she naturally radiates to everyone around her. She is the gentle breeze after the rain. The comforting voice that pulls you from the depths of despair, or the lightning strike during the fiercest thunderstorm.

Some women are beautiful when they weep, or smile, or frown, but Gabrielle is beautiful in every way. Her beauty augments her ferocity in battle, or makes her seductions irresistible.

I have never in my life met a person so unselfish. She is giving and compassionate, with a healers touch and a gentle voice. Her laughter is musical and often, infectious. Needless to say, I have spent many years, now, with a smile on my face.

Her eyes are the softest green, and if you look in them, you can easily be lost. Just don't look in them when she's pissed, then it's like being lost on the artic pole. Unfortunately, due to my various personality quirks, I've seen that a few times as well. (Those were the few bad days in my life.)

When she moves, whether dancing or fighting (we've done our share of both), she has this fluid, almost feline grace to her movements. Even now, in our latter years, she still possesses it. It's almost hypnotic when you watch it. In spite of the numerous artifacts you might uncover in this place, I'm sorry to say that you're about two thousand years to late to see the real treasure here.

As for my children, we were blessed with two; Our son, Alexander, and our daughter, Xena.

Alexander is his mother's son. That much was clear from the moment he began to crawl. He grew into a strong young man, with his father's face, build and eyes, and his mother's hair and temperament. Well, at least I contributed something to the mix? He's a little taller than his mother, just under six feet in height, and solidly put together. Alex is the thinker, the one who looks at the entire situation before making a decision. He has Gabrielle's patience and understanding. At the same time, he inherited my philosophical look at life. I can't count how many times we have stayed up through the night discussing and debating endless subjects, like theology, history, or philosophy. Still, if it comes to a fight, he's more than capable. He has his mother's speed and grace, as well as skill, along with an almost childlike curiosity about everything, (more of his mother, I suspect).

While the two of us are as close as any father and son could be, the simple fact is that Gabrielle was always Alexander's favorite. If there was ever a mama's boy in this village, Alexander was definitely it. Whenever I would see him, coming back from his travels, it was always his mother that received the first embrace, or that first kiss. I would constantly be reminded of the old Bill Cosby monologue about the father teaching the son the fine art of football, watching him grow up, go to college, play in the big game, score that touchdown. Then he would look straight into the camera and shout "Hi mom!"

Well, that's Alexander.

Where Alexander is the thinker of the two, our oldest, Xena is the one who will act. She is definitely mine, that much is certain.

Xena got my height and, I think, my temperament – a little on the short side.

The first thing about our daughter that you'd notice, if you met her, is her eyes. She has these pale blue eyes that are clear as the summer sky, when she's in a good mood, or cold as ice when she isn't. There are few people that can hold her gaze when she looks at them. She has a natural intensity, like a hunting cat, always on the prowl.

While she is our daughter, Xena's life had an unexpected twist that Gabrielle and I have, at times, been hard pressed to keep up with. Xena is actually the reincarnated soul of my wife's late best friend, a fact that was driven home, with little room for speculation, around her fifteenth birthday.

She has her namesakes same black hair and blue eyes. Same build, tall and strong, (though I will always maintain that she inherited her height from me), and without doubt, the same skill that Gabrielle described to me in the past. Weapons came easily for her, since she had her innate knowledge from her previous life to draw on, and her personality is her own, infused here and there with a bit of ours. She has a soft, calming voice when she wishes, or a harsh cry that can be heard over the sounds of battle.

A statuesque and beautiful young woman, I spent the latter years of her adolescence in mild fear that I would end up having to fight off potential suitors. That was until she saved my life! Any young woman that can fight off a pack of wolves at age fifteen doesn't need a crotchety old geezer like me screening her potential boyfriends. In retrospect, I don't think she had many boyfriends in any case. As of now, her travels with Alex have kept the potential suitors at bay as well. She seems driven to help others in a way that's more internally motivated, unlike Alex, who just rationalizes it as "the right thing to do."

We've told her, time and again, that a new life is a clean slate. She has nothing to atone for this time around. Still, the memories of her previous life, before she met Gabrielle, still haunt her in some way that I'll never be able to truly understand.

She has a strength and intelligence, with an even measure of charisma, that make her a natural leader. I have never seen Xena set a goal and fail to achieve it. She has the instincts of her former life, along with the martial skills, and these make her a formidable woman in her own right. Add to that, the skills I've passed on to her, and I don't think there is a warrior in the world that can match her. I may be biased in this view – fatherly pride and all - but if there's someone out there who can prove me wrong, they have yet to show up.

That's not to say that she doesn't have a softer side. There are times where she spends hours, or days in quiet contemplation. She has an introspective side that I think only her brother truly knows about. When that happens is when you really see how beautiful she is, and why I've been as nervous as I have about suitors. At those times, she is radiant.

She possesses a rapier wit, that, if you aren't careful, she'll nail you with at any given moment. Again, as my wife likes to say, a combination of the old friend and me, (god help us).

No grandchildren yet, though I expect if there are any in the near future, they'll be from Alexander's side. Xena doesn't seem too interested in settling down. Whenever I joke with her about the prospect of it, she gets annoyed with me. I think there's a part of her that fears having a family of her own, though I don't understand where the anxiety comes from?

Gabrielle has explained the losses Xena endured in her previous life, and in those facts I can understand it to a point. But this is a new life for her. That means new possibilities.


End file.
